


See the Night

by NightingaleTrash



Series: Bloodlines: Evie Byrne [1]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Gen, Haunting, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Sexual Harassment, Mentions of mutilation, Novelization, Teenage Vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 128,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/pseuds/NightingaleTrash
Summary: One night can change a lot of things. One night out leads to Evie becoming a pawn in the eternal game of Jyhad as the power players of LA battle for dominance.
Relationships: Beckett & Gangrel Fledgling
Series: Bloodlines: Evie Byrne [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771777
Comments: 59
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue - New Blood

_19th October 2004, 10:00pm_

“Eves? You ready yet?”

“Just a sec,” Evie called back as she clicked the lipstick lid back into place on the tube. 

She did a quick inspection of her face in the mirror. For once she was pleased with the result. Makeup was something she was still getting the hang of, and tonight was her first real try at it without Sam there to walk her through or do it for her. And she hadn’t done too badly, if she did say so herself. Her hair, braided and capped with a beanie, didn’t look too bad either.

After doing a quick check of her clothes - black skinny jeans, wedge-heeled ankle boots, a crop top, and a leather biker jacket - she stepped out of the bathroom.

Sam was perched on the back of the sofa, checking her phone. Her golden-brown hair sat loose in perfect coils, and she was wearing her favourite little black dress and heels with complementing accessories. She grinned when she saw Evie.

“Hey you. Looking good.”

She straightened up and pulled on her jacket. 

“Come on, Jen is waiting outside with the cab.”

They both made for the door before Sam stopped to check Evie’s teeth.

“Aha! Missed a spot,” she giggled, wiping away a smudge of lipstick. “Always remember. Check your teeth! Saves you the embarrassment of someone calling it out.”

“Thanks _mum_ ,” Evie shot back, grinning. “I’ll remember next time.”

“ _Good_.” Sam grinned and looped her arm through Evie’s as they stepped out of the apartment. “Now, Jen has the ID you’ll be using tonight. Don’t lose it, and you’ll be fine. And don’t think this means you can get away with this shit in future - I’m only doing it because I feel bad about going out without you after what happened last time.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal, Sam,” Evie insisted, though she wasn’t necessarily arguing getting to go out with her friend. “Just a little panic attack. I can handle it.”

“Its never ‘just’ a panic attack, Eves.” Sam gave her a very stern look. “After everything you’ve been through… You shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

They were silent on their way down the stairs to the ground floor - or the first floor as Sam and everyone else insisted it was called - until they emerged onto the pavement. Jenny was waiting at the curb beside a waiting cab and she waved excitedly at the pair.

“Are you two ready to _party_!” she yelled as they approached, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet which caused her curly hair to bounce up and down in waves.

Sam rolled her eyes.

“Jeez, Jen. Save it for when we actually _get_ there,” she snorted.

“Oh don’t be such a killjoy Samantha. It’s Evie’s first proper night out! What’s not to be excited about?”

Evie grinned back at Jenny. Her energy was simply contagious.

“Just remember the ground rules we talked about the other day. A first night out shouldn’t end in a trip to the infirmary,” Sam interjected. “Now, we got everything we need? IDs, phones, pepper spray?”

“Yes mum,” Evie and Jenny chorused back.

Sam rolled her eyes again. Something she did so often when the two of them were together that it was a miracle they hadn’t rolled into the back of her head yet.

The three of them crammed themselves into the back seat of the cab, with Sam telling the Cabbie - who was wearing sunglasses despite it being well after sunset - where to take them as Jenny slipped Evie her ID for the night. 

It was certainly a very convincing fake, with the only difference from her actual ID being the date of birth stamped on it. Evie grinned at her, and Jenny winked back before gesturing for her to put it away. She slipped it into her jacket pocket just as the cab began to move.

Twenty minutes later and the hills of Hollywood were rolling by with the sign all lit up. Evie still couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it. Just a few years ago, the idea of living so close to such a famous place was unthinkable to her. But a lot of things had been unthinkable just a few years ago. This was just one of the nicer surprises.

“We’re here,” the Cabbie said as they rolled up to the Asp Hole. “Have a good evening, ladies.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Jenny said, handing him his payment and tip.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.”

They clambered out onto the pavement and the Cabbie drove away as they looked up at the Asp Hole.

It was a rather famous club, albeit relatively new. It was reportedly owned by none other than Ash Rivers himself, who had - shockingly - retired from acting despite rocketing to stardom just a couple of years earlier. That, however, just made it a very popular place to be. Many people ventured inside with the hopes of getting even a glimpse of the star of Negative Zero.

Sam was, admittedly, one of those people but had made a point of lecturing Evie to not to get her hopes up and go pestering Ash if she saw him. No sense in getting themselves thrown out. Evie cheekily pointed out that she was likely saying it more to herself than anything, which Sam couldn’t help but admit before adding that it would certainly be an exercise in restraint for them all. Jenny especially, who was not renowned for her patience or restraint.

A bouncer was at the doors, trying to control the flow of people in and out of the club, which was in the middle of throwing an early Halloween party. Evie, Sam and Jenny joined the line with Jenny bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.

Evie meanwhile was a mix of excited and anxious. If the bouncer saw through her fake ID, she’d be turned away and there was no way Sam and Jenny would leave her outside on the street while they partied. She didn’t want to be the reason their night was ruined.  
She tried to ignore the churning of her stomach and the uncomfortable pounding of her heart which thumped increasingly harder as they drew closer and closer to the doors.

Finally the bouncer began to check their IDs. His eyes lingered on Evie for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he looked from her to the ID and for a moment she was _certain_ he would see through it but he handed it back and pushed the door open, allowing them in.

Evie’s heart soared as she crossed the threshold and the pounding music washed over her. 

The inside of the club was pitch black with the disco lights and the underlighting of the bar providing the only real illumination of the space. The floor was covered in plush rugs, booths lined the far wall, and in the centre of the room was a packed dance floor where people of every stripe were moving up against one another. The scent of sweat and alcohol blanketed the air, and every beat of the base seemed to make the air vibrate.

It was a lot to take in at once, especially since she’d never experienced anything like it, but Evie couldn’t help but grin like mad as she trailed behind Sam and Jenny. It was everything they’d described and more.

“C’mon, let’s get a table before they all fill up,” Sam shouted over the music. “Jen, wanna go grab some drinks?”

“Sure! We’ll start Eves off small, right?”

“Definitely!”

So while Jenny all but pushed her way through the crowd to the bar, Sam led Evie towards the booths along the wall. The one by the window was empty, so they sat themselves down.

“You okay? I know its a real shock to the system the first time.”

“I’m fine Sam. It’s great here!” Evie grinned. “I wish you’d bring me along more often.”

That earned her a stern look.

“Just don’t get used to it. It’s only because of last week-”

“I know, I know. And I appreciate it Sam. I know you and Jen are taking a risk doing this.”

“Ha! Biggest risk we’re taking is getting reprimanded for not knowing you’re only seventeen!” Sam laughed as she folded her arms on the table. “I’m almost surprised the guy at the door didn’t call you out just looking at you. Its the makeup. Makes you look more mature I think.”

Evie grinned back.

“Yeah, probably. I thought for sure he was going to tell me to get lost.”

“Even if he had, I’m sure we’d have found something else to do. For now, let’s just enjoy ourselves!”

“Damn right!” Jenny was trotting over with drinks in hand, though she was struggling a little. “Now one of you two take the drinks that aren’t mine!”

Sam all but leapt up to take the drinks from Jenny and set them on the table. They all settled in, smiling as they held up their drinks in a toast.

“Happy Halloween, ladies!” Jenny cheered as they clinked their glasses together.

“Happy Halloween!” Sam and Evie chorused back before taking a drink.

[]

_20th October 2004, 01:34am_

Now tonight wasn’t the first time Evie had drunk alcohol. She’d done it when travelling on the road with Sam’s brother, Lee, and his friends when she was travelling to LA, and Sam didn’t try to stop her from drinking. She just made sure it was done safely and in moderation.

Still the Asp Hole’s brand of drinks were definitely stronger than what Evie was used to and she had to nurse her’s bit by bit rather than down it in one like Jenny did. 

That one had an iron liver, she did. And Sam wasn’t much further behind her in constitution.

After getting about halfway through her drink, Evie joined her friends dancing on the dance floor once it had emptied out a bit, though they kept to the fringes to avoid being sucked into the ‘no personal space’ zone. Then they had a couple more drinks as Evie finished her first, and now Sam and Jenny were at the bar once more.

Evie, meanwhile, remained behind at the table. She wasn’t tipsy or drunk, not even close, but she was still apprehensive about the bar staff getting a good look at her and seeing through her fake ID, so she chose to stay away.

And that was the biggest mistake she could have possibly made.

“Is this seat taken?”

Evie flinched and looked up. 

Standing over her were a pale skinned man with blonde hair slicked back in a long ponytail. His face was also covered in scars; a narrow ragged cut over the bridge of his nose, a slash over the corner of his mouth, and a crescent cut under his eye. But his scars weren’t really Evie’s concern right now. Her concern was the fact that a clearly adult man was towering over her with a hungry look in his eye as he stared down at her. The tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth and he raised a brow at her.

Her stomach plummeted. He could tell, couldn’t he? He knew she was too young to be here, and if she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d tell on her, have her thrown out, and come after her later-!

“Actually it is,” she said hurriedly as he moved to try and sit. “My friends are just getting some more drinks.”

“Surely your friends wouldn’t mind a plus one to your little party,” he remarked, dropping himself into Sam’s seat regardless.

“They would, actually.”

She could only _pray_ that he didn’t see the colour draining from her face or the way she was trembling from head to toe with fear. Or maybe adrenaline, though those were the same thing really. 

If he was a predator, he almost definitely saw. The amusement in his smirk was quite telling.

“Why don’t we see what they think when they get back? They might be a while though… The bar is quite busy at the moment. So many eager to commit themselves to sin…”

His hand settled on the table, casually staying closer and closer towards her.

Fear seized in her stomach. She’d once learned the cost of hesitating. She refused to pay that price tonight.

The Predator yelped as the switchblade sunk into the back of his hand. Blood spurted from the wound, and the tip of the knife scratched the table under his palm, as did his nails as his fingers instinctively flexed, leaving long, fine grooves in the wood. His eyes, a startling shade of yellow, glared at her.

“You little devil-!”

“What’s going on here?”

Evie wasn’t sure if she ought to be relieved or terrified at the sight of the bouncer marching over. She did have a switchblade stuck in a man’s hand at the moment. But the bouncer seemed acquainted with such scenes as he stepped forward, took the blade - Evie released it immediately - and pulled it free.

The Predator grunted, cradling his wounded hand to his chest.

“Is this man bothering you, Miss?” the bouncer asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“Yes,” Evie replied after a split second of hesitation. “I told him that the seat was taken already.”

“Right.” He tucked the bloody blade into his pocket and jerked his head at the Predator. “Get out before I have someone see you out. You’re not welcome here.”

The Predator didn’t argue, just jerked his head back at the Bouncer and turned to leave. But not before he gave Evie one last lingering glare. It was enough to make her blood go cold and her hands tremble hard.

“Miss?”

She jerked back to the bouncer, who was waiting patiently for her to collect herself.

“Yes?”

“May I see your ID? I need to verify your age.”

Ah. He must have realised that she looked too young to be here.

“Sure, just let me-”

Her heart quickly joined her stomach somewhere between her feet as she rummaged in her jacket pocket. The one where she _knew_ she had left her ID. It wasn’t there though, so she checked the other one. She found only her phone and keys.

Feeling the panic rising in her chest, she checked her jeans pockets as well as her seat and the floor.

“I had it!” she implored. “I _know_ I had it just a minute ago-”

The bouncer shook his head and waved over one of his colleagues.

“Would you see this young lady out? She’s unable to provide an ID to prove she’s of age,” he said. “And keep an eye out for the creep I just kicked out. The white guy with the scars.”

The second bouncer nodded and waved Evie over.

Her anxiety levels were rising rapidly as she searched the crowd for any sign of Sam and Jenny. They were invisible in the crowd, and the barely illuminated room wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“No, please, my friends are here with me! They can tell you, I had an ID! The guy at the door could tell you!” Evie protested even as the first bouncer gently guided her up from the table.

“Then you can wait outside with my colleague here until we’re able to verify that. In the meantime, I have to ask you to leave as you have nothing to verify that you are of age.”

He jerked his head and the second bouncer pressed his fingertips between her shoulder blades, forcing her to walk in front of him. 

She couldn’t help but stumble forwards, her legs feeling as if they were made of lead and her stomach churning so badly that she was struggling not to throw up. She kept searching the crowd for any sign of Sam, but it was after midnight and the club was more packed than ever, making the task of picking out a specific person almost impossible unless they were standing right next to you.

All too soon she was standing outside in the freezing cold night air, arms wrapped around herself.

“Would you like me to wait with you, Miss?” the bouncer asked, though not unkindly.

At the very least they didn’t seem _angry_ about her having snuck in.

“N-no,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I need to make a call. About my ID. If I’ve lost it, then-”

She didn’t hang around to finish her excuse, just skittered around the corner between the Asp Hole and Vesuvius, all while trying to get her breathing back under control. It was harder than she wanted to admit. Her stomach was keen on throwing up everything she’d eaten and drank in the last few hours, and sweat was beading her forehead as she trembled from head to toe.

She needed to get back inside. Find Sam and Jenny. She couldn’t let them find out that she’d lost her damned ID, not after all the trouble they’d gone through to include her tonight! 

Lost? No, she hadn’t lost it. That damned arsehole trying to make a move on her, he must have stolen it while she was distracted. 

She kicked the wall in frustration. She had to get back inside before he could come prowling around looking for her. No doubt stealing her ID was part of his plan. Get her kicked out and then use the ID as leverage to get what he wanted. Well no fucking way. She wasn’t about to give up like that.

So she fumbled with her braid for a moment and pulled out one of the bobby pins holding the shorter loose hairs in check. Her journey to LA had given her ample time to learn all sorts of skills, including how to pick locks. She just needed a door to pry open, and she could sneak back inside, no problem. She would just have to avoid the bouncers, find Sam and Jenny, and they could leave together before any further problems arose.

She hated to be the one to ruin the night out. Ugh, she hated this whole situation, but staying safe without embarrassing herself was a higher priority right now.

Sure enough, she found a door at the back of the club. It looked unguarded enough, and a quick check of the keyhole revealed that it led into an unguarded backroom. She slotted the pin into the lock and began to fiddle with the tumblers.

And then a mass of hair and claws barreled into her at high speed, hitting her with the weight and force of a truck. 

She was thrown onto the concrete and her ribs gave an audible crack, with one jabbing at her lung. With the wind knocked out of her, it was impossible to scream as _something_ dragged her away from the door and began to sink its claws into her flesh. 

Her jacket offered little protection; the faux leather was flimsy and the monster’s claws tore through it like it was tissue paper. 

Teeth sank into the junction between her neck and shoulder, the lower jaws piercing her windpipe. When her mouth flapped open, a strangled gasp came out instead of the desperate scream she wanted to give.

Blood splattered over the concrete as Evie’s flailed and lashed out at the beast, kicking, scratching and clawing, trying to force it away as it shredded her flesh with ease. Her terror demanded one thing: to escape and to survive.

No such luck.

Her eyes began to leak tears as she tried to scream for Sam, for Jenny, for _anyone_ to come and help her, but her throat was a bloodied mess and it was impossible to make a noise through mouthfuls of blood.

She was dying. After everything she had endured, everything she had survived, and she was dying to some… some horror. All because of some stupid arsehole.

 _‘I don’t want to die,’_ was among her final thoughts as the light of the world began to dim and fade. _‘Sam… anyone… help me…’_

[]

_???_

Numbness was the first thing she registered as she floated in and out of consciousness. Her whole body felt like it had been torn into pieces and stitched back together with everything in the wrong place. 

Every now and then someone clenched her jaw to hold her mouth open and poured something thick and cold inside. It tasted wonderful and it made some of the wrongness fade a little faster. But it was still… wrong. She didn’t know why but even in the midst of this, she could tell that _something wasn’t right_.

More drifting in and out, more numbness and things knitting back together. And then it all came back at once.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright. Which was a mistake, as her head immediately started spinning. She clutched it, trying to ease the sensation, and registered that her beanie was gone and that her hair was a mess. 

When it faded, she took in her surroundings and was horrified to realise that she didn’t recognise them.

She was lying on a bed in an apartment; it was small, shitty, and cramped with junk strewn all over the floor. The wallpaper was peeling and the clock on the wall revealed that it was still after midnight… Except it was 12.45am. Earlier…? 

No. 

Later. Much later. 

“You’re finally awake. Good.”

A primal fear filled her all at once and she froze on the bed, staring in horror at the man sitting in the chair across the room from her. Long blonde hair, yellow eyes, and pale complexion littered with scars… It was impossible for it to be anyone else.

Evie’s mouth went horribly dry. What had he done to her? Had he attacked her? No. No it had been a monster that had attacked her. Had he actually saved her then? But if he had, why was she here and not in a hospital? Unless-

Maybe he’d drugged her. Maybe there had never been a monster! How long had she been unconscious and at his mercy?! What had he _done_ to her-?!

She didn’t get the chance to demand answers, and he didn’t get the chance to speak any further. The door to the apartment exploded inwards and a hideous creature from the depths of a nightmare erupted into the room. It launched itself at the Predator as he sat there and _stabbed_ something right into his chest.

A man in a black jacket with piercings followed behind, moving across the room at impossible speeds over to Evie. A freezing cold hand clasped her shoulder. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of the stake jamming itself into her heart.

[]

_???_

“Good evening.” 

Everything was dark and she couldn’t twitch her fingers, much less try to run, but she could hear perfectly well. The murmuring that had filled the room had fallen silent in an instant, and the sound of smart shoes clicking on wood echoed over the walls followed by heavier, but also quieter steps close behind.

She couldn’t think of where she might be right now. She had heard snatches of conversation before. About Traditions and Barons, but little else that she had understood.

“My fellow Kindred,” the voice continued in perfectly manicured Received Pronunciation, the kind of accent one might hear on the BBC. “My apologies for disrupting any business or interfering with prior engagements you may have had this evening.”

There was a wet squelch and suddenly Evie’s entire body went from rigid to floppy, and she would have found herself face first on the floor if it wasn’t for someone seizing her shoulders and forcing her upright while keeping her on her knees.

The room came into view a moment after.

To her horror, she was kneeling on a stage with a dozen or so people staring back at her from the seats below. Men and women in various styles of dress and of varying ages, sitting in dispersed groups around the theatre. Suits and dresses, leather jackets and boots with spikes and more straps than necessary; one woman even seemed to be wearing a long coat over her lingerie.

And then, standing at the front of the stage, was the speaker. From behind she couldn’t see his face, but she could see that he was wearing a long coat over a suit, and he had neatly combed blonde hair. 

Standing at his side - before moving across the stage - was a man who was impossibly tall with brown skin that looked… sickly? Kind of like how Sam looked like when she had the flu, except even more washed out and drained of life. He wore his hair in braids that were pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a long leather trench coat, and strapped to his back was a sword that was nearly as tall as he was, with a blade as wide as Evie was.

Then, to her right, was the bastard himself. The Man with the scars. His yellow eyes were currently fixed on the Speaker’s back and were filled with an obsessive hatred. Evie could see his fingers twitching, as if he was imagining them wrapped around his neck and throttling the life out of him.

But then the man from the apartment, the man with the black jacket and piercings, grabbed him by the back of his neck and forced his head down so that he could only stare at the floor instead.

Evie then made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder as the person who had been holding her had let go. And standing there, hands folded being its back, was the _monster_.

She screamed and fell backwards, trying to scramble away from the creature, with its hideously distorted features and its too-long teeth and its boils and ulcers and-

In short, it was horrible enough that all she could focus on was _how_ horrible it was, even as the Speaker made a disgusted noise and gestured at the creature, apparently unperturbed by its appearance.

“It’s unfortunate that the affair that gathers us together tonight is a trouble one,” he continued as the creature rolled its blood-shot eyes, seized her by the arm and dragged her back onto her knees besides the man.

“Keep quiet and keep your head down, Fledgling,” it hissed in a cracked, gravelly voice, “or you’ll end up on the chopping block a whole lot faster.”

Trembling in terror, she managed to give it the tiniest nod and remained where she was, her eyes on the floor as she tried to control her breathing. Had she been calmer, she would have wondered why her heart wasn’t pounding.

“We are here because the laws that bind our society - the laws that are the fabric of our existence - have been broken.

“As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city the privilege of siring. Many of you have come to me, seeking permission. And I have endorsed some of these requests. However, the accused that sits before you tonight was _not_ refused permission. Indeed. My permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the Embrace of this childe.”

He gestured to Evie, who ducked her head a little further and curled her shoulders inwards, wishing she could evaporate on the spot.

“It pains me to announce the sentence,” he continued, “as up until tonight, I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organisation.”

Was it just Evie, or did a murmur sweep the room just then?

“But as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression… Is death.” The Speaker crossed the stage to stand in front of Evie and the Man with the Dreads. “Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight’s events serve as a reminder to our community: that we must adhere to the code that binds our society. Lest we endanger all of our blood.”

He turned to the Man with the scars, who was permitted for a moment to raise his head to meet the Speaker’s gaze.

“Forgive me,” was all he said, before turning his back. “Let the penalty commence.”

The Giant reached over his shoulder and drew the enormous blade. He took it in both hands as the Man with the scars - who was still glaring at the Speaker with immense hatred - was forced to bow, exposing his neck. The man restraining him took a step backwards.

The Giant raised the sword and, in one fluid motion, cleaved it down into his neck.

For a second his head rolled onto the stage, his yellow eyes staring back into Evie’s horrified eyes, before suddenly the skin greyed. It cracked and flaked, and in a single breath, it and the body crumbled into nothing but ash.

The Speaker didn’t waste a moment.

“Which leads us to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny,” he continued, as if a man hadn’t just been executed and had crumbled to dust in mere seconds. “Without a sire, most childer are doomed to walk the earth never knowing their place. Their responsibility. And, most importantly, the laws they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that-”

“THIS IS **BULLSHIT**!”

Evie nearly leapt out of her skin as a man in the audience shot out of his seat and nearly leapt the rail between the seats and the stage before the person beside him held him back.

But it was too little too late. 

In an instant the enraptured silence was broken by over a dozen voices discussing amongst themselves, and suddenly the man who had interrupted - he was dark haired with a beard and a leather jacket - was no longer the only one standing. 

One by one, others rose up around the room, shouting their own objections and hurling insults. One woman’s voice was especially loud, and Evie distinctly heard the phrase ‘coiffed, pompous arsehole with a curling iron rammed up his asshole’ somewhere amidst the din.

The Speaker remained silent for a moment as he absorbed the crowd’s abuse before finally raising a hand for silence.

“If Mr Rodriguez would let me finish,” he said, just loudly enough to quiet the worst of them, “I have decided to let this Fledgling live. She will be instructed in the ways of our kind and be granted the same rights. Let no one say that I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community.”

Evie sagged forwards again, but not nearly so dramatically as she had before. Relief flooded her. For a horrible moment, she really thought that she really was about to have her head chopped off too. 

She managed to raise her head just in time to see the man who had first spoken out - Rodriguez - glowering at the Speaker before turning and marching out of the room. The people who had been sitting with him followed behind.

“I thank you all for attending these proceedings. And I hope their significance is not lost. Good evening.”

And just like that the crowd dispersed. Each individual rose to their feet and began to depart, though some lingered to discuss… whatever all that had been.

Evie was left to her own devices for the moment, and it was only then did she realise that she was still wearing the tank top, jeans, and boots she’d been wearing at the club. Her jacket was long gone, her jeans were torn, and she was covered in blood. Her own blood. It made her feel a bit sick to be honest.

But she was alive… Right? Whatever had happened, she was alive. That had to count for something.

Trembling, she glanced around the room. The Speaker was busy conversing with the man in the black jacket and the… the thing that had warned her to keep quiet. That advice had probably kept her from being killed sooner.

But then to one side she saw the Giant with the sword. He was staring out over the room and occasionally over to the Speaker and up at the rafters. Tentatively, she approached him.

“Uh… Excuse me?”

He stared at her and she couldn’t help but recoil slightly. He was so much bigger than she was, and his eyes… There were no pupils and no irises, just a faintly glowing purple sclera. It was hard not to feel intimidated.

“I uh… Do you know what I’m _supposed_ to be doing right now?” she asked in a tiny voice. “Its just that… I uh. I don’t really know what’s going on. At all.”

He just continued to stare back and didn’t say a single word. He didn’t even try to communicate with his hands. It was just eerie silence.

“Um. Okay. Sorry to bother you. I’ll just-”

“Ah, there you are.”

She jumped and turned on the spot to find herself face to face with the Speaker.

He wasn’t all that much taller than her. He was unnaturally pale - like everyone else here seemed to be - and he had pale blue eyes. He had a somewhat haughty look to him as well, like he was someone who came from money. That fact was all but confirmed by the rings adorning his fingers.

He extended a hand.

“Sebastian Lacroix.”

“Evie Byrne.” She took his hand, which was like ice against her own.

“Yes well, Miss Byrne. Your sire. Tragic, my apologies, but you see. There is a strict code of conduct that all of us must… Must adhere to, if we wish to survive.”

He turned sharply on his heel just as Evie opened her mouth to ask what he meant by ‘all of us’, and she had no choice but to follow in silence.

“When someone, _anyone_ , breaks these laws, they undermine the fabric of our centuries-old society. Understand my… Predicament.”

He led her off of the stage though a door that led into the back of the theatre; cold concrete corridors that were purely practical by design unlike the rest of the building (probably). 

“Allowing you to live makes me directly responsible for your subsequent behaviour. So.” He turned a corner. “What I am offering is _not_ generosity. But the opportunity to transcend the fate woven by your sire.”

They reached the fire exit at the end of the hall, and Lacroix stopped and turned back to Evie who was feeling more confused by the minute. 

"This is your trial. You will be brought to Santa Monica. There you will meet with an agent by the name of Mercurio. He will provide the details of your labour."

He then fixed Evie with a cold, stern gaze. 

"I have shown you great clemency. Prove that it was more than just a wasted gesture, Fledgling. Don't come back. Until you do."

He moved to walk by her again and paused only to add, "good evening."

[]

Evie felt dazed as she stepped out into the cold night air - she barely registered that it ought to have felt colder - and wondered what the hell was happening. 

Lacroix had called her 'Fledgling', and had talked about 'Embracing' and 'Sires' and laws that bound 'our society.'

Obviously some kind of secret society, but she still couldn’t wrap her head around what kind exactly, and how her being attacked in a back alley had led her here to being a part of it. 

She looked up at the night sky. Or rather at the buildings looming overhead. There was no mistaking the monster that was the Venture Tower, which meant she was Downtown, and that meant she had most likely just been inside the Nocturne Theatre just now. That was… away aways from Hollywood. 

Sam had to be freaking out right now, wondering where the hell she was. If only Evie had her phone on her right now…

She checked her pockets on instinct, but as expected, she was carrying nothing. Her things had been in her jacket, which was long gone by now.

“Well. Shit,” she murmured.

Her legs felt like lead as she finally stepped away from the fire exit into the back alley behind the theatre. The moment she did so, a booming laugh made her jump out of her skin.

Standing there was a very wild, unkempt looking man. He had wild gray hair worn long with a scraggly beard to match, and he wore an open denim vest with nothing underneath. He was covered in scars, and right now, he was laughing in her face like she was the funniest thing he had seen in his life.

“What a scene man! Hoo wee, ha ha! Then they just plop you out here like a naked baby in the woods! He he how ‘bout that. Ah, look Kiddo, probably a lot for you to take in so uh. Why don’t you lemme show you the ropes. Whaddaya say?”

Evie stared at him for a moment.

“Uh. Who _are_ you?”

“I’m Jack. What’s important is that I’m offerin’ help. You make it back from Santa Monica with your hide, then we’ll trade life stories, ‘kay? Til then, I’ve got about-” He held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “-this much time. You in or out?”

Evie swallowed. She’d be lying if she said that he didn’t make her feel nervous. She didn’t especially want to owe anyone any favours until she figured out what the hell was going on, but… Well she needed help, and he was offering. What was the harm?

“Sure. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I could definitely use the help right now.”

Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright! Why don’t we uh. Step out, back here?”

Evie frowned.

“I’m good where I am thanks,” she said coolly. “I’m just glad to be out of that theatre.”

“I can imagine. Christ it’s stuffy in there, huh? This is much better. Now we ain’t got much time, but I figure that someone should fill you in on the bare bones stuff at least. Could save your hide, and-”

He paused and frowned.

“You look wobbly,” he remarked, peering at her. “You even _had_ a drink yet?”

Evie frowned back.

“A drink of what?”

Jack howled with laughter, clapping his hands together like Christmas had come early or something. Evie felt her face go red with embarrassment. She wasn’t sure if he was laughing at her, but it certainly felt like he was.

“Oh man, we are poppin’ a cherry here! Ha ha ha! Oh, Kiddo, you’re gonna love this!” 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, forcing her close. Her eyes threatened to water from the stink of sweat and hair on him. 

“Right, check it out! Blood? Its your new rack o’ lamb! Your new champagne! Blood’s your new fucking heroine, Kiddo! Get ready though, because its never as sweet as the first time!”

Evie stared at him like he was mad. 

“Uh, Jack? Can you uh. Just backtrack a sec?” she asked, still staring wide-eyed. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

Jack stared back. And then laughed even harder, slapping her shoulder _hard_.

“Oh fuck Kiddo, you haven’t figured it out yet?” 

“No! _Because no one will tell me anything_!” she shot back, pushing his arm away and wrinkling her nose at him.

“Alright, alright. Take a look Kiddo, and tell me what you see.”

He grinned at her, baring his teeth. Evie glared at him.

“Are you fucking with me right now? Fucking- Did Sam and Jen put all of you guys up to this? Cuz its not fun-”

“C’mon Kiddo, use your eyes! _Look_.”

So she looked at his teeth… And her stomach plummeted as she realised that his canines were too long, and much too sharp. They were fangs.

“That’s right, Kiddo,” Jack said, jerking his head. “Vampires. All of us. And that means you too.”

Evie’s hand flew up to her mouth, and sure enough she found herself prodding a pair of sharp fangs that had settled neatly where her own canines had been before. And her stomach plummeted so hard and so fast that she was nearly overcome by the horrible need to vomit. She resisted only because something in the back of her head told her that that would be a bad thing to do.

“Yeah, yeah I know, big deal. Trust me, you’ll feel a whole lot better when you’ve had something to drink,” Jack said nonchalantly. “Like I said Kiddo, we only got so much time, so perhaps save the staring at nothing for the cab ride to Santa Monica.”

Still stunned and not quite able to respond, she just nodded stiffly.

“That’s the ticket. Now.” He put his arm back around her shoulders and pointed towards the corner of the building. “Down around the corner there, I saw this human. Poor S.O.B. can’t find his car.”

He giggled and Evie stared at him blankly.

“So… what do I… how do I… uh…?”

“Alright.” He re-serious’d himself, drawing her a little closer and making sure he had her attention. “You go down there casual like. You creep up on ‘im, then bare those little fangs and feed. And don’t worry about the fact that you’re a scrawny little fishstick, cuz it’ll come so naturally that you’d think that you’ve done it a thousand times already.”

“But.” Evie frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. “Won’t he become a vampire then?”

Jack just gave a bark-like laugh.

“Forget that comic book crap, Kiddo. It don’t work that way. Now go for it. Ah, but be sure though - and this is important! - be sure not to drain him dry! Okay? It might be hard to resist, but don’t kill ‘im.”

Evie nodded, still not quite all there, and walked stiff-legged towards the corner of the alley. She glanced back at Jack, who gave her a thumbs up, before turning the corner. Like Jack had said, there was a man staggering in the dark. He didn’t look to be _drunk_ drunk, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sober either, and he was muttering under his breath.

“I know I left it in one of these fucking alleys…”

Evie crept forwards, trying to make as little noise as possible. She stepped over discarded cans and ducked into the shadow of a dumpster. Then instinct stepped in.

 _Feed_ , it hissed.

Previous reservations forgotten, Evie pounced and latched herself onto the man’s back. Her barely got a scream off before her fangs sunk into his neck and his blood filled her mouth.

And just like Jack had said, it was better than any drug could ever dream of being. It was warm, and the copper tang on her tongue was _delicious_. Something in her chest delighted in the deluge of sweet nourishment as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful. She would have kept going until there was nothing left by a dry, dead artery, but she had enough awareness of self left to recall what Jack had told her and so she let go.

The man hit the dirt, still breathing but otherwise paler than he’d been a minute ago.

Evie stared, wide-eyed, as her hand traced over her mouth. She really had just done that, hadn’t she? She had just fed on that man’s blood. It had come to her so easily that she hadn’t even had to think about it, and it had been as good as Jack had told her it would be…

Once more, she had to resist the urge to throw up. Just thinking about it made her feel unclean and monstrous. Is this what had happened to her in the alley? Had she been turned into a monster? Into… into _this_?

Jack was waiting for her outside a door opposite the theatre’s fire exit, leaning up against the wall. He grinned at her as she approached, either not noticing the horror on her face or just not caring.

“Hell yeah, you’re feeling it,” he chuckled. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re a born again predator. Feelin’ that blood, bubblin’ inside you, liftin’ you up. That’s it Kiddo. That’s what it’s all about, right there. Alright, so now you got the blood, your feelin’ all kick ass, feelin’ better than your best day o’ livin’, but wait! It gets better!”

“You mean this isn’t the high point,” Evie mumbled miserably.

Jack either didn’t notice or, again, didn’t care.

“All Kindred- Kindred. That’s uh, _our_ word for vampire. All Kindred have a few things in common. Things that set them right square above humans on the food chain. Sharper senses, a body that can take a beating, and, if you play your cards right, eternal life! That’s no sure bet, but still, a chance at immortality’s not a bad deal. And that’s just for starters! Fringe benefits for joinin’ the club.”

“So… I’m going to live forever?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry just thinking about it.

“Well, you can still be destroyed,” Jack admitted, shrugging. “But forget the books and the movies. Garlic? Worthless. A cross? Pfft. Shove it right up their ass! Ha ha ha! A stake? Only if it catches you in the heart, and then it just paralyses you. Runnin’ water? Eh, its no problem. I bathe! ...Occasionally.”

Evie raised a brow. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed him on that last part. She could still smell him from here.

“Now, a shotgun blast to the head? Ugh, that’s trouble. Fire? That’s _real_ trouble! Sunlight? Well. You catch a sunrise and it’s all over, Kiddo, get it?”

 _So stay away from stakes, shotguns, fire, and the sun? Sure, I can handle that no problem. Master of staying out of trouble, that’s me,_ Evie thought sarcastically. Then she realised that Jack was waiting for an answer, making certain that she’d taken in everything he’d just told her.

“Yeah, got it.”

“Okay now-”

He was cut off by the sound of a nearby explosion. Orange light was thrown up the wall and there was a screeching of tires on tarmac, shortly followed by a burst of gunfire. Then there was a loud, ear-splitting howl.

“That didn’t take long,” she muttered to herself.

Jack hissed, a bit like a cat.

“What the fuck is this…?” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the noise. He then wrenched the door open and gestured inside. “You get inside here and head upstairs. Meet up in a bit. I’m gonna go see what the ruckus is.”

Evie nodded and did as she was told, ducking into the building as Jack slammed the door shut behind her. She tried not to flinch as he did so.

The inside appeared to be a garage of some sort, with various car parts and heavy equipment scattered around the place. There was no way to get upstairs from down here from what she could tell, but there was a pile of crates at the far end up the room besides the walkway above.

There was another explosion - like a molotov going off - and it spurred her to get a move on.

She made her way across the room, weaving around the half-butchered cars and machinery, and clambered up onto the crates. She’d always been good at climbing, but now she was faster and stronger than ever, and a climb that might have taken her a minute before now took less then a second.

Hauling herself over the railing, she glanced around when something caught her eye. A lockpick had been left lying inside an empty box. During her journey to LA, she’d acquired all kinds of skills, including how to pick locks. Not taking it would likely come back to bite her.

“Might need this,” she murmured to herself as she pocketed it.

She turned the corner and none other than Jack was waiting near the end of the hall. He caught sight of her and waved her over.

“Stay away from the windows,” he hissed.

Evie crept forwards, doing as she was told, but she couldn’t resist peeking outside to see what was happening in the alley below.

Standing at one end was the Giant from the theatre. 

Opposing him was two vampires - she guessed that they were vampires, anyway - with guns, and… Well. Evie didn’t know _what_ it was. If it was a vampire, she’d never seen anything like it.

It was humanoid in shape, but its forearms were much too long and instead of hands it had claws covered in fur. And even at a distance, she could make out glowing eyes and shark-like teeth.

The bullets were flying but the Giant shrugged them off like they were nothing more than gnats. Instead he just raised a hand and pools of silvery light formed behind the gunmen. The light took shape and pounced at the gunmen, and Evie managed to vaguely make out the shape of a pair of wolves before the two gunmen collapsed into ash.

The third vampire - she decided to assume that he was, in fact, a vampire - took one glance at his fallen comrades and charged headlong at the Giant, claws swinging wildly.

The Giant didn’t flinch, just raised his hand to his lips and blew gently. A hot wind seemed to launch itself forwards and consumed the vampire, turning it to ash in an instant.

Evie stared with a slack jaw and wide eyes, and the Giant looked up at her. He quirked a brow, then turned and walked away.

“Dumb frenzied Sabbat bastards,” Jack cursed once the danger had passed.

“What?”

Jack blinked and shook his head.

“Ah Christ, I was hoping to spare you this shit til later,” he muttered. “The Sabbat. Well, uh. They’re mostly mindless, bloodthirsty assholes, that’s all you need to know for now, alright. They got wind of the gathering here and they figured they’d raise a little hell. Put a little heat on the new… Prince.”

He uttered the word like it was a bad taste in his mouth and Evie frowned.

“Lacroix? What’s he the Prince of?”

But Jack just shook his head.

“No time for political rundown. Job one: get out of here alive. The Sabbat might be mindless, but they hit like a truck, like raging savages. Nothing a Fledgling like you wants to mess with.

“Alright, we gotta vamoose outta the back quick. I’ll stay and keep a watch out. You get us into the office. The door’s around the corner here.”

Evie nodded and crept past. There was a door at the end and she tried the handle. Locked.

She knelt down, pulling out the lock pick. She worked at the lock quickly and quietly, listening for the clicking of the tumblers. It was remarkably easy now that she didn’t even need to hold her ear close to the door.

“Guess this being a vampire thing has some perks,” she murmured to herself, tucking the pick back into her pocket and opening the door.

No sooner than she turned the handle did she hear glass shattering from inside. She froze, but then picked up on that familiar scent. Jack. Sure enough he was waiting inside and standing in a pool of shattered glass beside one of the office windows.

“Uh, shortcut?” he said almost sheepishly, gesturing to the broken window. “Nicely done though. Not exactly an angel in life, were you?”

Evie shrugged.

“I did what I had to,” she replied vaguely.

“Cool. Now if you want a lesson in how really _not_ to act, take notes from those Sabbat assholes. You’re a big bad vampire, yeah, great, congrats, now keep it to yourself. You go ‘roar’ and you beat your chest and, well, that’s what you can expect. Its the reason you don’t let humans see you feeding. Its why the wolf doesn’t want the sheep to know he’s there. Its also why you don’t go juggling dumpsters, or outrun the eight fifteen from Sacramento, it’s- It’s why you didn’t know any of this when you woke up this mornin’! 

“Keep our secrets secret, and you make things easier on all of us. We’re livin’ in the age of cell phone cameras. Fuck ups ain’t tolerated.”

“Yeah. I got that from the trial,” Evie snorted, jerking her head.

“Uh, yeah.” Jack shook his head disdainfully. “Those assholes are the Camarilla. They make a tidy business enforcin’ vampire laws like this one.”

“So they’re… what? The vampire good guys?”

Jack snorted.

"Yeah, I'll tell you what I think some other time. I like to let people form their own opinions. Now don’t worry, cuz I know the area a little and you know what? I’m glad we’re in this situation, you and I. It illustrates a point. You gotta utilise your surroundings.”

“So lemme guess. Whatever it takes to stay alive, laws be damned, right?”

Jack raised a brow and it was hard to tell if he looked surprised or mildly impressed.

“Sure thing Kiddo, so look around. We gotta get out the back there through that magnetically sealed door. Must be a key someplace. I’ll keep watch.”

Evie nodded and took in the room quickly. There weren’t many places to hide a key. A few filing cabinets, a single sofa, a desk with a computer, and a safe embedded into the wall. There was also a sticky note stuck to the wall above the safe.

First she did a cursory check of the desk drawers just in case, but there was no key in sight, so she checked the sticky note.

 _Password: Chopshop_.

“Well that was easy.”

“You talk to yourself a lot, huh Kiddo?” Jack chortled. “I heard you earlier.”

She shrugged as she switched on the computer.

“Helps me keep my head in order,” was all she said.

It took a few minutes to find the right screen, but she managed it soon enough. She entered the password and the safe’s lock clicked. She pulled it open, and sure enough, there was a keycard lying on the shelf.

“Nice work Kiddo. Now take that keycard and head out the back. I’ll meet you out in the alley there. Gonna check out things from topside.”

Evie nodded and crossed over to the door as Jack climbed back out through the window he had broken. As she swiped the key through the lock, the sound of shattering glass reached her ears again and she rolled her eyes. 

“With the way things are tonight,” she said as she pushed open the door and began to head down the stairs, “I would almost swear that I’m back with Lee and the Drifters again.”

She did her best to be quiet as she headed down the steps, and she pressed an ear to the door at the bottom. It was quiet, with most of the sounds of fighting being distant and far away, so she opened the door and stepped out into the alley.

Big mistake.

Almost immediately a Sabbat vampire caught sight of her, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. 

She yelped as the hail of bullets tore through her side - and her already ragged clothing - and she dived into the relatively poor cover of a payphone. It took everything she had to not cry as she pressed a hand to her wounds, trying to stem the bleeding.

But then, to her amazement, she realised that she wasn’t bleeding all that badly.

Up ahead there was a scream and her head snapped up just in time to see Jack hoisting the vampire into the air and then down onto his knee. There was a horrible crack as the Sabbat’s spin snapped, and Jack then proceeded to tear his head off before lunging at the second vampire.

Their throat decorated the floor before it disintegrated into ash, and Jack waved Evie over.

She limped out of her hiding place, though she wasn’t in nearly as much pain as she really ought to be. In fact, it felt more like a sting than a bullet wound, and she walked the rest of the way to Jack.

“Fuckin’ waste of unlife, these Sabbat vatos!” Jack cursed before looking over Evie. “Didja get winged?”

Then he grinned.

“He-hey! Look at them potholes! Those’ll close up soon enough. Better feed though-” 

He stopped and sniffed the air, and for a second Evie thought he was about to make fun of her again.

“There’s someone down the stairs there,” he said lowly. “Not the freshest catch but he’ll do. When it comes to feeding, its quality blood you’re lookin’ for, not the quantity. Bums and lowlives don’t pack the same punch that a healthy, well-bred human will. Juice bags with a pedigree: that’s the good stuff. But you gotta take what you can get. You ever had a PhD, Kiddo? Ooh, that’s good stuff.”

“If you say so,” Evie murmured, vaguely disturbed by the term ‘juice bag.’ Was it normal for vampires to feel so indifferent to humans, or was it just the likes of Jack?

“Remember what I said though, don’t kill them. Least not the innocent ones. You’re a monster now, make no mistake. One of the damned and the fallen. You need to hold on to every last shred of humanity you have. And don’t get ideas about blaming it on being hungry: an innocent’s an innocent. You kill one, even a worthless bum and its an accident, its gonna cost you a piece of your humanity. Bring you closer to that Beast you’ve got welling up inside you.”

Evie frowned, feeling confused again.

“Beast? What's the Beast?”

And just like that, Jack seemed drawn far away for a moment. Neither serious nor cracking jokes. It was… odd.

“It’s always there,” he said, coming back to himself. “Waiting to take over. And when it does, its like a wild animal wearing your skin, desperate. Scared. Reckless. It’ll do anything to survive, and its you that has to deal with the consequences.

“But, and here’s the big but,” he added, “if some asshole levels a twelve gage your way, you drain ‘him, skin ‘im, and bash in his skull. Self-preservation is a vital part of humanity after all. My favourite part in fact, hehe.

“Now go feed. Careful, he’s gonna drain fast. And then we’re gonna get outta here.”

[]

They had managed to slip into a series of underground storage rooms under a warehouse, slipping past the guard and dealing with the Sabbat they came across. Well, Jack did mostly. Evie followed silently and took his direction until they reached a narrow corridor and an elevator.

“Alright, wait here Kiddo. I’m gonna check it out. You sit tight here.”

Evie nodded and Jack disappeared upstairs. She sat herself down, back against the wall, and took a deep shuddering breath.

Okay, so maybe tonight wasn’t exactly like being with Lee and the Drifters. The Drifters might be willing to shoplift and travel on freight trains illegally, but they didn’t sneak up behind people and rip their spines out with their bare hands, and they didn’t laugh about it as they went. There had been one incident with an armed and pissed drug dealer, and that had definitely gotten scary when he had managed to shoot Dan in the shoulder, but otherwise they’d made it out alive without anyone getting killed.

This was… a whole other kind of mess.

She rested her arms on her knees and stared at a stain on the wall as she wondered what was going through Sam’s mind right now. 

According to Jack it was now October 22nd, meaning that she had officially been missing for at least two days now, and he had also told her that the police had already concluded the investigation and declared that she was dead. Apparently the Camarilla had something to do with that; or at least Jack was certain they did.

Two days. She was officially two days dead. Knowing Sam, she’d refuse to give up on her that quickly and would demand the search continue until she was found. It was tempting to reach out and find her, but… 

Well, she wanted to be sure that she had everything under control first. Jack’s talk about the Beast had given her things to think about. Once she was sure she could control herself and her new ride-along, then she would check in with Sam. 

Sure, Jack said to keep the whole vampire stuff secret, but Sam wouldn’t tell. It would be their little secret.

“Ah ha ha ha!”

She looked up as Jack came careening around the corner, grinning. There was blood at the corner of his lip, and he was dusting his hands off. 

“Fucking humans. Gangbangers protectin’ their turf. Aw man, I was here thinkin’ it was Sabbat movin’ up in here. Fuckin’ locals just took one for the ‘hood!”

“Wait. You killed them?” She got to her feet, scowling. “What happened to not killing innocent humans?!”

“Ah, Kiddo. They were innocent until they waved their fuckin’ peashooters at me!” he laughed. “Besides, they saw too much. Consider it ‘protectin’ the Masquerade’. Trust me Kiddo, lotta humans end up gettin’ offed for knowin’ the truth. Its why you don’t go blabbin’ to anyone, capiche?” 

Evie blinked and wondered briefly if Jack had read her mind or something. But instead of saying anything that might give herself away, she just nodded.

“Sure.”

“Good. Now c’mon. They’re lookin’ for you outside.” He jerked his head towards the elevator. “Best not keep ‘his Highness’ waitin’.”

He led Evie into the elevator and out into the warehouse. Her stomach turned. There were bodies littered on the ground, and blood was splattered all over the walls and floor. Her body tensed up and she wasn’t able to get out onto the street fast enough.

“Well Kiddo, here we are.” Jack waved to the car that was waiting at the curb. “I was hopin’ to fill you in a little more, but you’ll figure it all out. If you make it back, stop in at the Last Round. Its a bar here. I’ll fill you in on the politics, he he.

“Now that’s the stuff that’ll kill yah.”

He turned to walk up the street, laughing as he went.

“Good luck, Kiddo,” he called over his shoulder. 

And just like that he was gone, leaving Evie standing alone on the pavement, covered in dried blood and in ragged clothes. She stared after him until the driver beeped the car horn. She flinched and hurried over. 

“Get in,” the driver snapped. “I don’t wanna be sitting around, waiting for the Sabbat to come back.”

“Sure.”

She clambered into the back seat and they were off. She stared out of the window, watching the city go by in a blur.

It had been one hell of a night, but the ones to follow would only get harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm back. A little sooner than intended, but I really wanted to start sharing this fic with you folks, so here it is. Evie's back, along with a familiar setting and a familiar story with some personal tweaks and touches of my own. I hope you guys enjoy it ^^
> 
> I'm going to do my best to stick to a weekly update schedule, though I can't make too many promises that my writing habits will keep me to that for the entire fic. Fingers crossed I can stick to it though!


	2. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to find her feet and get them wet: Evie has her first assignment on her first night as a vampire. Should be a nice and simple start, right?

_“Hello LA, you're up way past your bedtime, aren't you? Hope you've slipped into something comfortable, I know I have. If you're new to town or just new to this whole radio thing, you're listening to The Deb of Night, the only girl who will spend the night with you and leave first thing in the morning, guaranteed.”_

Evie decided to stop fiddling with the radio stations and left it as it was for now. She then looked around the apartment.

It was, in a word, shit.

The windows had no curtains, only wooden boards that she had taken down for the moment to look out onto the street below. It was raining, which wasn’t completely unusual for Santa Monica. 

The bed was a mess as well, stained with what she hoped was just sweat, and there was no door on the bathroom. The kitchen - which was useless to her - was tiny and cramped and the fridge door didn’t look entirely secure. The only thing that looked relatively new was the laptop sitting on the rickety desk that stood in the corner. 

There was a notepad on the desk and someone had left a note.

_Hey,_

_The password for the laptop is Sunrise. I left you something to snack on in the fridge, and there’s a cell phone and some cash in the desk. I dropped you an email with my address. Come on over after you get settled._

_Also got told you might need some new clothes. Check the bag. Sorry if it ain’t your style, but hey, something’s better than nothing right?_

_\- M_

Evie opened the drawer and inside was a plain black flip phone and a wallet, and tucked in that was about a hundred and fifty dollars.

“Huh. Thanks Mercurio,” she murmured. Then she checked the aforementioned bag on the floor.

Inside was a pair of jeans, a tank top and jacket, a woollen beanie, and a pair of trainers. Not much different from her current attire, except it wasn’t torn or covered in dried blood, which made for a massive improvement. She made a mental note to change after she showered.

She then checked the fridge - the door didn’t quite hang right - and there was a small box of blood packs inside, which was definitely more appealing than the idea of drinking from a person.

“Maybe this Mercurio guy’s isn’t gonna be so bad.”

Closing the door again - and checking that it was shut properly - she replaced some of the boards back over the windows and turned on the shower.

It was strange, being unbothered by the cold water. It rolled over her, and though she could feel the cold biting at her skin - her dead, dead skin - it didn’t make her shiver or recoil. It was just there. It was so weird, and would definitely take time to get used to.

When that was done, she took the laptop and sat down on the bed. She tapped in the password and a notification popped up, informing her that she had some emails. She opened them one by one, checking the contents. Only two really stood out to her, and one she deleted without even opening it. The subject line - DANG! It’s big you know!!!111 - was telling enough.

The first that she bothered to read was short.

 **_< Subject> A Reminder_ ** **_  
_** **_< From> Lacroix_ **

_Mercurio will contact you when you arrive in Santa Monica. Waste no time in meeting with him. - SL_

She rolled her eyes. Lacroix was definitely going to be keeping an annoyingly close eye on her, wasn’t he?

The second email wasn’t quite so punctual or formal.

 **_< Subject> Welcome_ ** **_  
_** **_< From> Mercurio_ **

_Hey. Welcome to town. Come on over to my place once you get situated, and we'll talk about what you'll need to get the job done. I'm going to pick up explosives right now, some Astrolite. I should be back by the time you come over. I'm at 24 Main Street, in number 4. Walk to the end of the alley and my building is the next one on the right. – M_

She frowned. Explosives? She couldn’t admit to having ever heard of astrolite, not even since arriving in the US, but she doubted it meant anything good. Still, if she didn’t show up, Lacroix would have her head. Literally. So she couldn’t be too picky about what she was doing. 

“Ugh, and when I was finally away from this kind of shit,” she hissed, setting the laptop back on the desk and closing it.

She grabbed her new wallet, her keys and phone, and switched off the radio just as some loser was trying to convince Deb that he was a wealthy yacht owner before stepping out into the hallway.

The apartment sat over a pawnshop, and despite the fact that there were other doors off the hall, the building was almost completely silent which was odd. But if the other apartments were as shit as her own, then maybe it was just that no one else lived there?

‘Or they’re asleep,’ she thought to herself as she made her way down the steep, narrow staircase.

It wasn’t likely, considering that this was LA and it was a city that tended to be noisy around the clock.

Still, tonight should be a gentle start to this ‘being a vampire’ thing, or at least gentler than last night was with the Sabbat raid. Just talk to Mercurio and learn what it was that she needed to do. Simple, right?

Wrong.

Evie emerged from the alley alongside the pawnshop just in time to see someone at the steps of the building that Mercurio lived in. He was staggering through the door, clutching his middle, and he had left behind a bloody trail that trailed down the street. He disappeared inside, and it seemed that no one had even noticed. That or they just didn’t care.

“Why do I get the feeling that that was Mercurio?” she murmured to herself before jogging down the street.

She reached the front door, and the aroma of blood was nearly overwhelming. She made a concentrated effort to ignore it and slipped inside.

It was certainly nicer than her own apartment building. White tiled floors - that were currently splattered with blood - clean white walls - with a blood smear on one side - and there was even potted plants standing either side of the doors. And aside from all the blood - had she mentioned that there was a lot of it? - it was clean and well maintained, with smooth oaken doors that were locked with keypads.

If she wasn’t so worried about Mercurio, she might have been annoyed with the blatant difference in her own new living situation. Instead, she followed the blood with a sense of urgency and pushed open the bloodied door.

There was blood everywhere. On the rug, on the sofa and coffee table, and on the light switch, just everywhere that could have blood on it had blood on it. 

And lying face down in a pool of it on the sofa was Mercurio. His jacket was torn, his nose looked broken, and there were spots on his face where the skin had been torn away, and the stuff that was intact was turning black and blue. 

“Mercurio?” she asked, kneeling beside him and gently touching his shoulder. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“Ugh…”

He stirred and rolled onto his side. One of his eyes were swollen shut and blackened, and his lip was split open which dribbled blood everywhere. There were shards of glass in his hair, and he seemed dazed.

“Mercurio?”

“Those mothers… Ripped me off,” he growled between gritted teeth. “I’m dyin’ here.”

“Need me to call an ambulance?”

“Wha-?” He seemed to snap back to reality and he scowled. “No! I got a record back east, I’m heat bait. Don’t touch that phone!”

Evie’s brow furrowed.

“It looks bad. Are you sure?”

“No cops!”

He was absolutely adamant, and Evie shook her head.

“Fine, your call. Got any first aid supplies at least? What happened?”

He waved vaguely at the cabinet in the corner and Evie hurried over to it.

“I got- I went- Uh… What is this lump? Is this my rib? Holy shit, my rib is pokin’ through my side?! Oh. I’m all numb. You gotta look and tell me.”

Evie grabbed the first aid kit, though she wasn’t certain she’d be of much help if it was a rib sticking through his side, and she returned to his side. She peeled back his jacket and took a look at the lump he’d found. It was a bit of glass.

“It’s just some glass. Looks like its from a bottle,” she said evenly as she prodded around the wound. 

She could probably remove it without doing much harm. She took a wipe from the kit and held it beside the glass. Sure enough, it was held in place mostly by his shirt rather than his skin; it was only a shallow wound and she cleaned it before taping down a bit of gauze.

“Goddamn chemist! Can’t trust any operators in LA,” he cursed as she worked. “I verified him, organisation seemed reliable. Guy mixes up speed, his crew sells it. Occasionally does explosives. I set up a drop.”

He hissed as she pressed a cold compress to his eye, then sighed in relief and fumbled to hold it there himself.

“Thanks… Anyway, I show up at the beach with the money, right? Four of these guys, they come out of nowhere. Junkie pricks - they hit me with a bat! Head feels like I got a friggin horse kickin’ it.

“I never shoulda gone alone. Amateur move! I shoulda handled those pricks. Goddamn dirty Cali rat bastards!”

Evie wrapped a bandage around his wrist and hand, compressing the bones and muscle and forcing them into proper alignment.

“Those cocksuckers - beat me rotten and left me for a stiff. I had to crawl to my car, crawl my ass up here. The vamp blood’s the only thing holdin’ me together. But shit, they got the money, they got the astrolite…”

“Where do I find these arseholes?” 

She was now at the limit of what she could actually do to help him. There were painkillers in the kit, but nothing that would actually do enough that would make them worthwhile; the amount he would need would undoubtedly cause him to overdose.

“Those small-time sons of bitches live out in a dump on the beach. Maybe four or five of ‘em. The one that got the explosives is Dennis. Got my money too, that prick!

“You gotta… gotta get it back from ‘em. Maybe reason with ‘em, maybe break in, I dunno. God, I wanna kill ‘em. Do whatever you people do! I blew it, I know.”

“I’ll handle it. Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

He blinked slowly, as if suddenly drifting back into a daze, before blinking again and shaking his head, forcing himself to focus.

“Yeah, if you could-” He groaned, clutching his side. “Something just started leakin’... I need something for the pain.”

“Okay.” She got to her feet. “Maybe the clinic will have something that’ll help. I’ll be back soon-”

“Uh, one more thing: about the deal, I mean it - you tell anyone about this, I’m dead. I’m beggin’ ya. I got a way o’ gettin’ people what they need. You don’t say anything, I can help you out.”

The desperation in his voice was genuine, and Evie couldn’t help but feel bad for him. She understood that kind of fear. Not wanting any mistakes to come to light for fear of the punishment.

“I won’t,” she promised. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve got something for you.”

[]

The clinic was open all-night but it was usually emergency cases that they took on this late. It was across the street from Mercurio’s place, and Evie was about to head inside when she was stopped by a guy at the door.

“Hey! How’s it goin’ girl?” he asked, grinning broadly at her.

“Uh… do I know you?” she replied, her anxiety beginning to pick up a little.

But his eyes simply went wide, sparkling with excitement, and his grin spread from ear to ear.

“Aw man! Say that again!”

Her anxiety picked up a little more and her hands twitched nervously at her side.

“Okay… do I know you?” She glanced to one side to see if anyone was around that she might yell to for help.

But he didn’t seem to notice as he just grew even more excited.

“Aw man, you-! You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

If Evie wasn’t already a walking corpse, she would have gone cold. Instead she just stared at the guy and wondered how the hell he had been able to tell. Were her fangs showing? Or maybe he had noticed something she had done earlier? Or maybe-

She shook her head.

“Vampire? What the hell are you smoking?!” she snapped, all while trying to catch sight of anyone she could run to for help. As if anyone would help at this time of night.

“C’mon, you are too! Oh man! Don’t bullshit me girl; just come clean. I ain’t gonna tell anyone, I just wanna talk!”

Evie chewed on her tongue. There were people around, and she could duck in the clinic if she really had to, but maybe, just maybe, this guy was in the loop on the whole vampire thing, and it was safe to talk to him. Maybe.

“Okay,” she said slowly, hoping she didn’t look anxious. “Let’s talk.”

“Hell yeah! Oh man, I knew it! I just- Oh geez, I knew you were. I could just tell. I- oh man, this is great! And th- then I saw your teeth an-and I was, like, damn! It was like I could just sense you. The name’s Knox Harrington. Pleasure to meet you. Aw man!”

Evie couldn’t help but feel taken aback by his exuberance and she gave another cursory glance around, just to make sure no one was listening in or watching them.

“So… are you a vampire too?” she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head.

“I’m a ghoul. I didn’t know about any of this stuff until a couple of months ago… when this guy just appeared and, well, all of a sudden - BAM! - whoa man! - vampires are real and right there in front of my eyes. Blew my goddamn mind.”

Evie frowned and cocked her head to one side.

“A ghoul? What’s a ghoul?”

“Well the way it was explained to me, whenever a vampire lets a human drink some of their vampire blood, the human gains a little vampire power, can heal up quick and that kind of stuff. Geez, oh man! Then they’re a ‘ghoul’, and ooh, watch out!”

Huh. Mercurio had said something about the ‘vamp blood’ and how it was ‘holding him together’ earlier. She guessed that made him a ghoul too. And the vampire who ‘fed’ him was probably Lacroix.

It seemed that there would be a lot for her to learn about being a vampire and the new world she had come to be a part of.

“So who is this vampire you… work for? I’m guessing you work for him.”

But Knox just shook his head.

“Aw man, I wish I could tell ya, but I don’t think I’m allowed. But it’s been really cool talkin’ to you, just, well, because I don’t get a lot of chances to talk to a vampire - oh man! - well, other than my master, so I thought I’d just say, ya know, what’s up, ya know?”

“Sure. Well, its been nice talking to you Knox, but I’d better get going. Things to do.”

“Sure thing, girl. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh. Evie. Evie Byrne.”

“Right on! See ya around Evie!”

Evie slipped in through the clinic doors and breathed a sigh of relief. Knox was certainly nice, but he’d caught her off guard there. She hadn’t expected to be called out for being a vampire on her first night. She thought she’d messed up somehow. Knowing he’d recognised the signs because he was in the loop was somewhat reassuring.

Still, it was time to find some painkillers that would pack a sufficient enough punch to help Mercurio until the blood fixed him up… If it could still fix him up.

The waiting room was full of people, and when Evie tried to head past the desk into the clinic proper, the receptionist stopped her.

“Wait your turn and you’ll be seen,” she snapped irritably.

“I’ve got a friend in for treatment,” Evie lied. “I got a call saying they’d asked for me.”

The receptionist frowned but shook her head.

“Fine, go on back.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Evie walked down the hall. The best place to look for something suitably strong was the treatment rooms, which was risky if they were busy, but knowing Santa Monica, the wait was more likely to do with a staffing issue rather than there being no rooms available.

So Evie stuck her head through the first door she came across.

Immediately the stench of blood hit her and the Beast reared its head. She all but slammed it down, determined to keep herself under control as she took in the scene before her. 

Lying on a gurney, sobbing, was a young woman. She was clutching at a bundle of bled-through bandages that were wrapped around her stomach which twitched and jerked horribly every time she took a breath, and every inch of visible skin was mottled with bruising. 

She was barely able to lift her head, and when she did, her eyes fixed on Evie.

“Please...” she pleaded weakly. “Get a doctor!”

Flinching, Evie could do nothing but nod, leave the room, and search for the first doctor she could find. She opened treatment room doors until she ran into one just outside of one.

“Please, you have to help-!”

“I’m sorry Miss, but you’re going to have to wait,” he said hurriedly, trying to scoot past her into the room. Evie dodged into his path regardless.

“But there’s someone who needs help! I think she’s going to die!” 

The doctor just scowled at her.

“Now see here, I’ve got a man in there with a bullet in his head! I paged Doctor Roberts a half hour ago. He’ll be here soon, and he’ll be able to take a look at your friend. For now, stay with her and make sure she doesn’t go into shock. Now I must go.”

And just like that, he pushed past Evie into the treatment room, and shut the door with a sense of finality.

Unsure of what else she could do, Evie walked stiff-legged back to the first treatment room.

The young woman was still lying on the gurney, clutching her stomach with tears in her eyes. Evie shut the door behind her and moved to stand at her side.

“Can someone please call my grandma?” she said helplessly as the tears rolled down her face. She was growing paler with every passing second and her breathing was becoming shallow. If the doctor didn’t arrive soon, she was going to die.

“Hang on, stay with me,” Evie said, placing her hand on top of the woman’s. She got a tiny whimper in return as frail fingers tried desperately to find the strength to curl around her’s.

Frankly, it was terrifying to watch and all she could picture was blood running over the hearth, hopeless gasps for life and blood-stained-!

Her heart started pounding in her chest (which it wasn’t supposed to do anymore) as anxiety took over. Her hands trembled, her mouth was dry, and her stomach was doing backflips.   
Her mind started going a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what the hell it was that she was supposed to do! The doctor wasn’t going to get here in time, and even if he did, there was no way he’d be able to do anything fast enough to save her. She was going to die if someone didn’t do something!

But then a startling realisation hit her like a truck, and all at once her mind cleared.

There was something Evie could do. Mercurio said that the vampire blood had held him together, and Knox said a human who was fed the blood would heal faster. Just a little bit of blood. That was all it would take.

“Hang on, I can save you,” Evie said fervently, squeezing the woman’s hand hard before letting go.

“Hng…”

She was fading, meaning it was now or never. 

Evie lifted her wrist to her mouth and, with a little apprehension, she bit down. It hurt, but not badly, and she could taste the blood on her lips. Then, carefully, she placed her wrist to the woman’s mouth.

She responded weakly at first, her lips barely twitching. But then she groaned as the vampire blood trickled down her throat, and she began to drink fervently. After a few seconds, the colour seemed to return to her face, and Evie pulled her wrist away. A few seconds later, the wound sealed itself shut.

“Wha... Ah…”

“Are you okay?” Evie asked, watching the young woman slowly return to life. That had been a close call.

“You… Who are you…? What did you do…? What did you do to me…?”

Evie paused and said, “it was nothing. I just wanted to help.”

“But… I was dying, and then… Then I kissed your wrist and… I can feel it inside of me.” Her eyes seemed to brighten. “What did you do to me?”

Evie moved towards the door.

“Just… Forget I was here. You’ll be fine, okay?”

She slipped out of the treatment room even as the woman protested, and she sagged against the closed door. She hadn’t expected to be making life-or-death choices on her first night. But the woman wasn’t dead, and that could only be a good thing after all. 

Slowly, she eased her breathing as the anxiety that still lingered began to retreat for the moment.

Her first night as a vampire, and she had saved someone’s life… Now that her stomach wasn’t churning, she felt pretty good. And if she could find Mercurio some painkillers, she’d be helping him out too. 

Jack had said that she was a monster, and that all vampires were monsters, but maybe that was just his opinion, wasn’t it? She didn’t have to be a monster, and she was already proving it. Hell, her blood alone was something of a miracle cure. Maybe this whole vampire thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Smiling to herself, she decided to continue her search for the pain relief that Mercurio needed. She had a lot of work to do after all.

[]

Evie hadn’t really been to Santa Monica beach since the summer holidays had ended. It had been back to school after that, so there hadn’t been time to venture down into the surf with Sam or her school friends. Well, school friend.

Rowan Khanna had been Evie’s first, best, and only friend when she had started attending high school. Everyone else thought she was that Weird British Kid and either ignored her or gossiped about her when they thought she couldn’t hear them.   
One girl had made a concentrated effort to bully her from the outset, but Evie had gotten very good at reading people and how to avoid being noticed from a young age, so she had been easy enough to avoid.

Anyway, during the holidays, Santa Monica beach had been one of Evie and Rowan’s favourite spots to hang out, whether that was exploring under the pier, sharing their lunch, or splashing at each other while paddling in the sea.

And as it turned out, the beach had a very different atmosphere in the middle of the night, and it played host to a very different demographic.

No sooner than Evie stepped out of the access passage that led down to the beach from the parking lot, she was being approached by a woman who couldn’t be that much older than she was, with brown skin and dark hair and - Evie noted - a pair of small fangs.

She pointed up the hill to the right.

“Up there. Through the chain-link gate and up those stairs,” she said abruptly.

Evie blinked and her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Those men you are looking for.”

“How did you know I was looking for someone?”

“Never mind.” She shook her head dolefully. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Um. Okay…? Thanks.”

Evie slipped by the woman, trying not to imagine how she might have screwed up enough that someone already knew she was looking for someone.

But she wasn’t alone. There was a half-rusted iron drum with a fire lit inside, and there was a huddle of other people gathered around it. They all kept looking over their shoulders and even at a distance, Evie could see their eyes darting to check the shadows around them. The nervousness they radiated settled over the strip of beach like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket that threatened to smother them all.

Evie decided against going over and adding to the nervous energy. One of them already knew what she was up to. No need to go drawing more attention to herself.

So she opened the gate and made her way up the stairs, as quietly as she could manage. At the top was a ladder that took her to the top of the hill, but she kept low when she reached the top.

There was a beach house - rundown, poorly looked after, all around not a nice place to live - with a burly guy standing guard at the less-than-white picket fence with a blood-stained baseball bat propped up next to him. There was a camper van outside, also in poor condition, and Evie started to suspect that that was just how things were with these guys.

She’d never be able to convince them that she was here to buy, or that she had the money for it - she probably didn’t - so she’d have to follow Mercurio’s advice. Get in, find the astrolite, and get out before they were any the wiser.

Her stomach started churning again and her heart began to beat uncomfortably. 

She’d done breaking and entering before, but that didn’t mean she was altogether comfortable with it. Would her vampiric abilities even be enough to take on all of them if they did catch her? She still had no idea how to use them. No one had been teaching her.   
Jack had made quite the display with a little trick he called ‘Potence’ when taking on the Sabbat but she had no idea if she could do that. He’d said that most vampires only had a few things in common, and the rest of their abilities depended on their clan.

She didn’t even know what kind of vampire she was. 

She shook her head to chase the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time for an existential crisis. She had to get inside without being seen, and so she’d have to case the place first.

Aware that she only had a few hours to get this done before she needed to get back to her apartment, she started by making a mental tally of every person she could see.

That was one for the big guy outside.

She then crept at the very edge of the hill, crouching low in the grass and around the back of the camper van. There was a gap in the fence to her left, near where it met the chain-linked fence that surrounded the rest of the property. She ought to be able to fit through without much fuss.

Keeping an eye on the guard, she squeezed through the gap. He didn’t seem to notice anything. He just kept smoking his cigarette.

So she continued to move, keeping close to the chain-link fence where she was out of the light from the floodlights and windows, and she kept a careful tally of every person she saw in the windows. There were two guys in the kitchen that she could see. That made for three out of four (or five) guys so far.

The backyard - if it could be called that - was more of a blindspot. There was a window into the kitchen and a tiny square window that looked into what might be an office on account of the computer, but it was mostly taken up by a large boiler. There was also a fuse box on the back wall and another chain-link gate.

Evie’s stomach dropped when she heard the growling coming from behind it.

There was a large, nasty-looking rottweiler staring at her, teeth bared and with a heavy chain collar around its neck. All it would take was for it to start barking and every single one of these arsehole would be on her in a heartbeat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, holding her hands up. “Please don’t bark!”

And just like that, the dog stopped growling, its hackles lowered, and it cocked its head at her curiously as it plopped its rear end onto the ground.

Later - much later - Evie would learn that her clan gave her powers that would give her a certain amount of sway over animals, and that was most likely why the dog had calmed so quickly. But right there and then, she’d had no idea if her pleading would have any effect at all.

She stared back at the dog, wondering if it had somehow understood what she’d said, and slowly she made her way over.

Up close, the dog looked far less vicious. In fact she felt a twinge of pity. Its ears had been roughly cut and scars criss-crossed its face and body. It whined and pawed at the fence and she hushed it, scratching its nose through the fence. 

“There, see? I’m not so bad, am I?”

The dog adjusted its position so it was sitting with its body along the fence, allowing Evie to continue scratching it. It was probably the first bit of affection it had been shown in its entire life. These idiots certainly hadn’t been treating it well.

“Now I need you to stay real quiet for me, okay? I’ll come back and get you when I’m done.”

Again the dog acquiesced and dropped to lie beside the fence, panting and watching her as she walked over to the fuse box. If the lights went off, that would cause some confusion and might even get her an open into the house.

So she flicked the switch and in an instant the house and yard went dark. Or from Evie’s view, kind of grey. She could still see everything pretty well in the dark, which was a pleasant surprise. She had an upper hand here, and that bolstered her confidence somewhat.

Inside, things were less clear. Voices started arguing and snapping about the sudden power outage, and a chorus started in favour of someone named Al going out to check the fuses. Al argued, but sure enough the threats started and he did as he was told. Evie lurked in the shadows, waiting for him to pass the kitchen window, get closer to the fuse box, and then-!

_Whistle_

Her instincts took over and she pursed her lips, whistling like a bird. Just as Al reached the box he paused and then… sat down on the sand. He stared up at the sky, and Evie could see it on his face. He looked utterly blissful, serene, as if he had entirely forgotten what it was he was doing.

Trying not to let the giddiness of using one of her abilities for the first time go to her head, she crept back around the house. There were still two guys in the kitchen, so that meant she’d seen four so far. That didn’t rule out that there might be a fifth she hadn’t seen yet though. She still had an advantage and a power she now knew how to make use of, but it was no reason to get sloppy.

Maybe she really could pull this off.

She eased the front door open and crept inside. She was in the living room, with one door directly opposite her and another to the left. She chose the left door, tiptoeing past the way into the kitchen and she eased it open. It led into a bathroom, with another door leading into a room with weights and to the right of that there was the office she had seen before.

There was still no sign of a drug lab, and it hadn’t been in the kitchen to her left, so she turned right and headed into the laundry room.

“Its going to turn out I should’ve gone through that other door first, isn’t it?” she mumbled under her breath.

“What the fuck is taking him so long?!”

She startled. The voice had come from the room in front of her. The fifth guy. She looked around for a place to hide and spotted a vent. Footsteps were approaching and she lifted the grate and curled up inside just in time. A pair of feet walked by and paused in the office as their owner looked out the window.

Not taking the chance of Al being out of sight, Evie whistled through the grate and the guy - Dennis presumably - was suddenly staring wistfully out of the window.

She had no idea how long the effects would last, so she made to crawl out of the vent when she caught sight of something beside her. A cigar box. 

She took a wild guess and opened it, and sure enough, there was a blood stained envelope inside, stuffed with dollar bills. No doubt it was Mercurio’s money, so she pocketed it and eased her way back out through the vent.

Dennis was still staring out of the window and had no interest in moving any time soon, so Evie unlocked the back door and stuck her head out. The dog was still waiting by the fence and she quietly beckoned it over.

It bounded over all too happily, tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“Shhh,” she hissed. “We have to be quiet!”

The dog seemed to understand and followed her silently into the final room. The drug lab.

It was a box of a room with two desks crammed in, which were covered in lab equipment and bottles and boxes of ingredients. It suddenly occurred to Evie that she had no idea what astrolite looked like and she became increasingly aware that it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that something was amiss beyond the power going out.

Fortunately it didn’t take an explosives expert to recognise what she was looking for. Two large plastic bottles were duct-taped together with various wires and tubing sticking out of the corks in their tops, and there was an inactive timer taped to the side.

There was nothing else in the room that even vaguely looked like it might be the astrolite, so she grabbed a rucksack that had been left in the corner and daintily slid it inside. 

With that done, she beckoned the dog to follow her, and she crept back out into the living room and onto the porch. And at that moment, the lights clicked back on.

It took every ounce of will she had not to panic. Instead she led the dog back to the hole in the fence that she had originally snuck in through and back towards the ladder.

When Dennis returned to his senses and found his dog gone and his explosives stolen, he exploded with anger. His friends were lucky to avoid the worst of his fury, but by morning there was a broken tv left lying on the beach with a shattered screen where someone had stuck their foot through it.

He had no idea who had taken his dog, as it clearly hadn’t gotten out on its own, but he did have a suspect in mind for the theft of the astrolite. The problem was that he was certain that that one would have bled to death by now.

[]

“Mercurio?”

He didn’t respond at first, still lying face down on the sofa. She imagined that she wouldn’t be getting used to the sight anytime soon as she went to shake his shoulder.

The dog got there first and licked his bloodied face and he yelled, scrabbling back against the sofa.

“Jesus Christ! Where the fuck did you get that thing?!” he swore, staring furiously at the dog.

“Dennis’ place,” she said shortly. “I got the astrolite.”

She opened the bag to show it to him and his good eye widened.

“Yeah? Good. Didja waste those sons o’ bitches?”

She shook her head.

“They did tell you I was seventeen right? Killing isn’t really… My thing.”

His eye widened.

“Oh shit. Sorry Kid, guess I just thought- Nah, nevermind. So long as you got it. Didja get my money back?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the envelope of cash, which she handed to him. His hand was shaking somewhat as he took it and stowed it in his jacket pocket.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Might have to buy myself some new kidneys with this.” He grinned at her. “Not bad Kid. Thanks.”

“No problem. So what do I do now?”

“You need to make some place disappear, a warehouse. Looks to be a Sabbat interest.”

Evie groaned inwardly. She would be perfectly happy if she never heard the word ‘Sabbat’ ever again. She’d seen enough of them in the raid that she never wanted to see them again. Now she was taking out a warehouse of their’s? Just great.

“So how am I supposed to do that? What part of ‘seventeen’ and ‘the most criminal thing I’ve done is shoplifting and train hopping’ don’t you people get?” she complained.

Mercurio grimaced.

“I know Kid, I know. Ain’t pretty. But I know a guy - I never met him but I’ve heard a lot about him. His name is Tung, Bertram Tung. He’s one o’ you types. If anyone knows more than me about this city, it’s him. Unfortunately, Tung’s hiding out at the moment.

“He's laying low because of Therese. Therese Voerman, y’know her?” 

Evie shook her head. 

“Anyway, word is that Therese and Tung are feuding - I don’t know the details. My take is that Tung thinks he’s about to get whacked, so he’s gone underground until Therese calls it off.

“If you wanna put that warehouse into orbit anytime soon, you’re gonna have to get Therese to call off the feud.”

It could never just be simple, could it? She sighed.

“Fine. Where do I find Therese?”

“She and her sister, Jeanette; they run the Asylum. Some freaky customers frequent that place. I try not to do business there. And you should know: Therese is the woman around here. A real power player. Probably best to keep it nice and polite when you go see her.”

Evie nodded. She bounced a few more questions - about Therese, Jeanette, Tung, and the Sabbat - off of Mercurio, trying to get a sense of how everything fit together. It made her head hurt trying to keep it all straight.

It kept him awake and talking too, which could only be helpful given his condition.

Eventually though she ran out of questions, and as dawn drew closer and closer, she found herself growing increasingly exhausted. So she excused herself for the night and headed back to her apartment with the dog in tow. 

She just managed to get all the boards back in place over the windows and stored the astrolite away in an unused kitchen cupboard before kicking off her shoes and crawling into bed. The dog jumped up and laid protectively beside her as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback!! I'm glad to know you guys enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one too. It's definitely a different challenge from Blood and Trust, but I'm enjoying myself so far ^^  
> Hopefully I'll see you all again next week :D


	3. Thinblooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie spends the night searching for ways to avoid carrying out her assigned task. She gets a bit more than she bargained for.

Evie sat cross-legged on the bed, sipping on a blood bag with the dog lying beside her as they watched the news together.

_“Our top story tonight: a derelict ship found floating ten miles off the Los Angeles coast earlier this morning was towed into the port of Los Angeles a few hours ago. The ship was spotted around midnight by fishermen who contacted the coastguard after their attempts to hail the ship proved futile._

_“Coastguard officials are releasing very little information right now, but have identified the vessel as the Elizabeth Dane. No word as of yet as to the whereabouts of the crew, though the coastguard are asking any ships that had contact with the Elizabeth Dane to assist them in their search. We’ll have more on this story as it breaks._

_“In other news, an apparent third victim of the Southland Slasher has prompted the closing of the Santa Monica Pier where the body was found earlier tonight. Investigators say that the scene closely mirrors those of slayings in Glendale and Long Beach. In both cases, the bodies of the victims were described as ‘torn apart’, though details are being withheld from the public at this time._

_“Police urge anyone with any information relating to this case to contact them._

_“And finally; actor Ash Rivers is lucky to be alive after his car crashed into the gate at Parasite Studios earlier tonight. Witnesses say that they were shocked when the Negative Zero star emerged unscathed, and apparently unphased from his high speed accident._

_“Rivers’ agent released a statement saying that Rivers’ crash was due to a mechanical problem, and that the studio is not pursuing legal action against Rivers for the trademarks’ gate destruction._

_“Miraculously, this is the second accident that Rivers has escaped unharmed in the last year.”_

“Well at least someone’s in one piece, eh?” Evie remarked, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Y’know, I still haven’t given you a name, have I?”

The dog barked and laid his head in her lap. And she was certain it was a he. She’d checked.

“Hm… how about Jacob? My big brother was called Jacob,” she suggested, as she resealed the blood bag and slipped off the bed to return it to the fridge. 

The dog - Jacob - barked happily, wagging his stump of a tail. Evie grinned back at him and affectionately scratched behind his raggedy ears.

“Okay, Jacob it is.”

She shut the fridge door again and glanced at the clock. It had just gone eleven o’clock. Huh. She must have been watching TV longer than she’d realised.

“So I’m supposed to go and talk to Therese tonight.” She paused. “But I really don’t wanna. So. How about we go take a peek at what’s going on at Santa Monica Pier instead?”

Jacob cocked his head to one side and whined.

“I know, I know, but we’re just going to have a look. I mean, just last night I saved someone’s life, I helped Mercurio, and I stole some shit from those junkies! Think of all the other stuff I could do now I’m a vampire!”

He still didn’t look convinced. She blew a raspberry at him.

“You don’t have to come, scaredy cat,” she teased as she laced up her trainers. “I can always go by myself.”

He barked and hopped off of the bed to go sit by the door. 

“Thought so. Come on then. Let’s go see what’s got everyone so worked up.”

[]

Access to the pier was cordoned off by the police; the gate was locked and there was police tape. However the steps down to the beach were unbarred, and there was a way up to the pier from there, so that’s where Evie headed. 

As she walked, she overheard a couple of cops discussing the murder, but she didn’t stick around to listen. She’d see it for herself soon enough after all.

Jacob kept close at her heels as they made their way down the steps and along the tunnel that led out onto the beach. The same group were hanging around their fire again and a boombox was playing music, but there was an edge to the nervous energy tonight. A tense anxiety that could be sliced with a knife.

Evie had to wonder if any of them had seen anything, so she wandered over.

“Hey.”

One of them turned - a guy without a shirt - and scowled at her.

“Look, it’s like we told you types about a thousand times before! We know we’re not allowed to hunt around here, alright?” he snapped. “We’re trying to mind our own business, no need to hassle the weaklings.”

Taken aback, Evie stared at him. He definitely had fangs, just like the woman from the night before did, and like her’s, his were small and somewhat blunted.

“I-I wasn’t gonna,” she spluttered hurriedly. “Has someone been giving you guys trouble?”

“All the bloody time! We’re getting pretty sick of it,” he groaned. “Someone citing domain or, in worse cases, hunting us for sport!”

“But why? What’s wrong with you guys?”

So far as she could tell, they were vampires just like herself. And while she hadn’t had the most welcoming start to this whole thing, she hadn’t had anyone try to chase her out of town just yet. 

And Therese had to know she was in town by now.

The shirtless guy just shook his head.

“Don’t know. We all seem to have come down with the same disease…” Then he threw his hands up in frustration. “Ah hell, who am I kidding? We’re a bad horror show alright, and we seem to be the runts - the mistakes. You types call us Thinbloods. I say we’re all equally screwed.”

“Thinbloods?” That was a new one, even on her. Jack hadn’t filled her in on those kinds of specifics. “But what clan are you?”

He seemed as confused as she was as his brow furrowed.

“Clan? See, I’ve heard all that before, an- and I still don’t know what the hell anyone’s talking about! I’d like to know just what I’ve become - we-” he gestured to the others huddled around the fire “-we’d all like to know jus- just what the- the hell kinda devil’s contract we’ve apparently signed!”

“Well maybe start out telling me how this happened to you,” she suggested. “Maybe we can figure this all out.”

He took a deep breath, nodded, and scratched the back of his neck.

“I’d just come to town for the surf tourney - seems like years ago, but it’s, well, been about six months now. Every night during the finals, I used to hit the local diner after the beach parties fizzled out in the AM. That’s where I met her.

“Her name was Lily. I remember introducing meself - the way she seemed grateful for the company. Well, a few nights after our meeting, we were alone on the beach and…”

His brow furrowed as he was trying to recall fuzzy details that weren’t quite clear anymore.

“I remember blacking out. When I came to, Lily tried to tell me what she was and what she had done, but I didn’t understand. So… she showed me. I was furious with her when I took it all in. I cursed her and left, never really knowing what I was. 

“I realise now how she must have felt. So, here I am now, a mystery to meself.”

Evie’s hands began to fidget in front of her, and she wondered briefly exactly what this Lily had told him.

“You guys do realise that you are vampires, right?” she asked tentatively.

He shook his head again.

“That’s what Lily tried to tell me. What I don’t understand are the rules and the terms and the reason that some of ‘em are at our throats claiming we’re the harbingers of the apocalypse! That’s what I wanna know!”

Well Evie had something to do tonight instead of doing what Lacroix wanted her to do. Perhaps finding Lily and learning about thinbloods would answer some of her own questions as well. So she offered to do just that.

“Hope you have better luck than I did. No one’s been particularly friendly to me in this city. Only reason we’re in Santa Monica’s cuz we haven’t been chased out yet.

“Oh, ‘fore I forget, name’s E. The black-haired beauty is Rosa - sees the future, so she says. That nervous bloke is Copper, and the one that can’t speak so well’s Julius. Kids’ gloves with them; they’ve had it rough.

“Anyways, if you want a place to start digging, this all started that night in the diner. Might be worth asking around.”

“Right. I’ll let you know what I find soon as I have something for you. Evie by the way.”

“Cool. Thanks Evie, I appreciate you stickin’ your neck out for us. Like I say, most you types haven’t been nearly so friendly.”

“Yeah well, I’m new to this,” she laughed. “I don’t know all the rules yet myself.”

She said goodbye to E and his friends and decided she was still going to take a peek at the scene up on the pier before heading for the diner. Jacob had decided to splash around in the surf, so she left him to it with the promise that she would be back in just a minute before she headed up the steps.

But when she reached the top, her eyes drifted upwards. She froze on the spot and her hand gripped the railing tightly as she caught sight of a silhouette perched at the top of the cliff overhead.

She paused and squinted at it, trying to figure out if it was what she thought it was. 

Sure enough, it was a huge wolf with stark white fur and… red eyes? It was hard to tell at this distance. It was staring back at her, like it was trying to get the measure of her, and for a moment, she was tempted to try and approach it. Mostly because she had never _seen_ a real wolf before, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. It was bigger than she had imagined - definitely a lot bigger than Jacob - and maybe she was imagining it, but there was intelligence in its aloof gaze.

But as she took a cautious step closer, it turned and bounded away out of sight.

Despite knowing that such a big animal could easily have brought her down, she felt an acute sense of disappointment to see it disappear. Seeing a wolf on TV or in a book was one thing. But to see one for real and at Santa Monica Pier of all places… It was something else entirely.

“Oh well…” she sighed, and she continued to make her way up onto the pier proper.

Halfway along the pier had been barred by a chain-link fence, keeping anyone who wasn’t involved with the investigation out of the crime scene. A couple of cops were inspecting the corpse, while another cop was patrolling the pier. 

Evie ducked into the gap between two of the buildings as he passed by before creeping further down the pier. And that proved to be a horrible mistake.

The body had been left to hang from its wrists on a lamppost. It looked like a horse had been tied to opposite ends and took off running in opposite directions, tearing the victim open. The insides had been gouged and the throat ripped open-

_Jacob was screaming as their father bent over his neck, ripping into the jugular-_

Evie stumbled as old memories - memories she didn’t remember _having_ \- flashed before her eyes. A deep and primal fear welled up, and It raised Its head, sensing that It was needed.

_“Leave him alone!” she cried, trying to sound braver than she felt._

There was a hand on her back, another on her arm, pulling her to her feet.

 _Blood-stained teeth, an evil smile, malicious eyes_.

She launched herself at him, sinking her fangs into his neck in fear.

 _An ear-shattering_ **_BANG!_ **

“You must stop or you’ll kill him!”

She snapped back to herself and she slammed the Beast down back into its cage as she threw herself backwards across the ground, her chest heaving with panic. Her mouth was full of blood, and there was a man lying on the ground, blood weeping from his neck.

Crouched on the ground between him and Evie was Rosa, the woman from the beach.

“I-is he-?!”

“No. You did not take too much. He is fine- will be fine.” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Evie didn’t care for the wording. Rosa had said that she hadn’t killed him, and that he was going to be okay. That’s all that mattered. Her chest was still heaving and her heart was thumping uncomfortably.

Rosa got to her feet and offered Evie a hand, which she accepted. She pulled her up, and said, “We should move him. Out of sight. They don’t know- won’t know who attacked him.”

“R-right… Thanks.”

They each took an arm and dragged the cop out of view, storing him in an empty arcade, before they made their way back down the steps off of the pier.

"You have been... no, no, you are going to China.”

Evie paused and looked over at Rose, frowning.

“What?”

“Why is he smiling ? The father ? Is it- Is it the father behind him?” Rosa’s expression was glazed over, like she wasn’t quite all there anymore. “You chased it for the one at the top of the city ... on the sea... oh, underground... ha, you found it... in the crypt, heh... it's open... hoh, he... it's open... oh god, oh god, **_run_ **!”

She screamed that last word before staggering and nearly falling forwards. Evie caught her by the shoulders, keeping her steady as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I am sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know what I’m saying…”

“Have you always seen things like this, or was it after your Embrace?” Evie asked quietly, seeing her over to the steps to sit down.

“After… I think. I- Never mind. Disregard what I say,” she replied. She paused, and then said, “every time I sleep the future plays out before me. I know the ending. It will end over and over until I cease to dream. I know your questions. I’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. But I need money to leave this place.”

Evie reached into her pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. 

“Here. You’ll probably need it more than me, anyway.”

“Thank you…” She stowed the money away in her jacket pocket before sitting up and fixing Evie with a piercing stare. “Now. Ask again.”

“Okay. What’s going to happen to me in the next few nights?”

She paused and her expression went glassy again, like she was somewhere else again, seeing things that Evie couldn’t imagine.

"The crimson ship. He's not who he says she is and it's going to burn. Dinosaurs? He's furious ... the man with the crest ... the voice in the darkness , boss. Chinese brothers. Follow the lights to the end of the tunnel. Where do you want to go ?"

Evie frowned. She wasn’t sure if any of that was useful. A crimson ship? Dinosaurs? A crest? Maybe she was asking too broad of a question for the specifics to be clear to Rosa, or maybe what she saw was hard to convey into words. So maybe her next question ought to be simpler.

“Who can I trust?”

“The Man on the Couch. The Lone Wolf. All others, tread carefully.”

The Man on the Couch? Well that had to be Mercurio. Unless she met any other men lying on couches in the coming nights anyway. But the Lone Wolf? She had no idea who that could be. Obviously no one she had met yet.

“So... anyone I should look out for? Who might try to hurt me?”

“Many. Everywhere. Some with swords, some with smiles. But I pity them. You are a remarkable foe.”

That seemed unlikely. She was seventeen, without a clue as to what kind of vampire she was and right now she could only whistle to make people’s focus drift for a time. It really seemed unlikely that any enemies she might have might consider her a danger.

“The Clan of the Beast.” Evie looked over at Rosa, who was still staring at some distant point ahead of her. “You find family there. Safety. You share the blood of the wolf. There you will find answers.”

Evie blinked. Clan of the Beast? What did that mean? Didn’t all vampires have the Beast dwelling inside of them? But the blood of the wolf… Maybe something to do with the Lone Wolf? Maybe she would learn more about what she was if she found them.

But she got the sense that Rosa wasn’t about to get anymore specific than that. But it sounded like her nights would be busy if half of this were to be true. And if she wanted a hope of surviving it…

“Any advice? Something that’ll save my life?”

Rosa’s face abruptly darkened, her eyes going wide with fear as her voice became harsh and commanding and filled with foreboding.

“ _Don’t open it._ ”

And just like that, her head drooped and she returned to herself. She gave Evie a very serious look.

“I have told you everything I can. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. And thanks for helping me out,” Evie replied, smiling at her despite the torrid confusion and guilt bubbling in her stomach. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

They got to their feet, and as they tentatively made their way back down to the beach, she added, “and a word of advice: wherever you end up, avoid the Sabbat.”

[]

Having finished her conversation with Rosa, Evie set out for the Surf-Side Diner to begin her search for Lily. It was across the street from the Asylum, which she continued to pointedly avoid for the meantime. Jacob trotted at Evie’s heels, growling at anyone who got too close. 

Still she had to leave him at the diner door, as he wouldn’t be allowed inside. 

The diner wasn’t too busy tonight, with a few people scattered here and there. A man with red hair was bent over a full coffee cup that was no longer steaming and he clearly didn’t intend to drink. A young couple were glued together in the far booth, and there was an old woman in a floral print shirt at the til.

Her name tag read as ‘Doris’ and Evie decided she was the person to talk to.

“What’ll it be?”

“I’m actually hoping you could help me with something,” Evie said. “I’m looking for my older sister, Lily. Have you perhaps heard the word ‘thinblood’?”

Doris frowned.

“‘Thinblood?’ Sounds familiar. Is that one of those tropical diseases?”

“Think. Do you remember a woman mentioning it? Kinda pale, might have been with an Australian lad a while back?”

“Oh, that girl.” Doris nodded. “Nice girl. First decent human being I’ve seen in here for years - not like all the junkies and crazies I normally see. Yeah, I remember her. Weird. She left a tip but didn’t order a thing.

“She looked so hungry too. Just sat there all night with a full glass of water in front of her, talking about this and that. She seemed lonely, a little scared, so I let her stay in the booth until we closed.

“She left some stuff here. You said you were her sister, why don’t you give it back to her when you find her? Hang on a second, hon.”

She shuffled off into the back and returned a minute later with a black handbag that she handed to Evie over the counter.

“Thanks, I will. And thanks for the help.” She reached into her wallet and handed Doris a few dollars.

She left the diner and greeted Jacob, who was very happy to see her, and checked the purse. There was a photo of Lily - she was very pretty, with a red bob and green eyes - a hand mirror, a car key, and a bail bond for a Rolf Toten from Kilpatrick’s Bail Bonds. That was a clue if ever she saw one.

So maybe she couldn’t help solve the murder on the pier, but tracking down Lily was a worthwhile venture.

She remembered having an email from Kilpatrick’s Bail Bonds; something about a Krime-puter that members of the public could use to look up anyone that the bureau had information on. 

With any luck, that would include this Rolf Toten. What his connection to Lily was wasn’t clear yet, but hopefully she’d find some kind of answer.

Kilpatrick’s place was around the corner from the diner, so it was a quick visit. There was no signs saying that dogs weren’t allowed, so Evie let Jacob follow her inside.

An overweight man was seated behind the desk inside the office, tapping away on the computer. He was wearing a floral shirt and black sunglasses despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and he looked up as she entered. He got to his feet shuffled out from behind the desk.

“Welcome to Kilpatrick Twenty Four Hour Bail Bonds. My name’s Arthur Kilpatrick, how can I help you?”

He then seemed to process the fact that she looked rather young, and had a very big dog with her.

“I uh. Need to use the Krime-puter?” she said, pulling out Rolf Toten’s bail bond. “I’m looking for my sister, and this was in her purse. I was hoping that looking him up would tell help me find her.”

Kilpatrick frowned and took the bond.

“Ah yeah, I remember. German fella. His girlfriend was the one who bailed him out; young lady, red hair, pretty. ‘Fraid she hasn’t been back here since.”

“Can I use the computer thing anyway? There might be something that’ll help me.”

“Sure thing sweetheart, go ahead.” He jabbed his thumb at the computer at the back of the room. “Say, seeing that you’re looking for someone, maybe you can help me out.”

Evie cocked her head.

“Depends on what it is.”

“My bounty hunter, Carson. He was meant to be lookin’ for someone, and he’s great at what he does when he wants to do it.” He scowled. “I can’t seem to find him, and it’s starting to piss me off. If you could go stick your head into his apartment, see if he’s there or find anything that might tell me where he’s gone, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll pay you for your time.”

Evie hesitated but the one hundred dollar hole in her wallet suddenly made itself very aware. She could do with making a little money, and all she had to do was knock on this Carson guy’s door. She could do that while she was looking for Lily, no problem.

“Sure, I can do that.”

Kilpatrick clapped his hands together and grinned.

“Great, great. Carson lives in the Santa Monica Suites, Apartment One I think it is. Maybe you’ll find something that’ll help me figure out where he’s gotten to.” He moved over to the desk and rooted around in one of the drawers. “Here’s a key card, it’ll let you in.”

“Thanks, I’ll see what I can find.”

She took the card and pocketed it before heading over to the Krime-puter. Jacob trotted behind her, keeping a wary eye on Kilpatrick who shuffled back to his own computer.

As it happened, the Krime-puter was quite straightforward to use, and she found the bureau’s information on Rolf.

_Bond written 08/22/03 – Immigration. Case#663321. Bond Amount: $15,000. Type of Bond: Collateral – Car, Red Lightningbird '77 (CA Plate#GUYCONI). Notes: Go back to Germania, pal. We don't take the Euro in these parts._

Evie frowned. A car? That was all the information they had? She sighed. It was the only lead she had right now, so what else could she do? There was a parking lot nearby; with any luck, Toten’s car was there even if it had been over a year since the bond had been written.

She made a to-do list in her mind:

  1. Check for Toten’s car in the parking lot 
  2. Search Carson’s apartment for information on him



Seemed pretty simple.

“Ready to go find some people, bud?” she asked.

Jacob barked, and Evie patted him on the head before getting up and heading out.

“Good luck out there sweetheart. And try to be careful; Santa Monica’s not the friendliest place these days.”

Evie waved goodbye to Arthur and set off down the street at a light jog towards the parking lot. 

There weren’t too many cars parked, given that it was late, and while Evie was no expert in cars and wouldn’t recognise a ‘Lightiningbird’ on sight, the vehicle stood out well enough that she found it pretty easily. It had obviously been there a long time with a clamp locked on its back wheel and over its steering wheel.

She reached into Lily’s purse and pulled out the car key. Chewing at the inside of her lip, she inserted it into the lock of the car boot. She breathed a sigh of relief as the lock clicked and the boot opened. 

There wasn’t much inside. A spare tyre, a lead pipe - for some reason she felt compelled to stow it in her backpack - and a small red journal. Written on the inside of the cover was Lily.

Heart leaping, Evie flipped the journal open and began to read.

Lily had detailed how she met and was Embraced by Rolf before he eventually abandoned her in order to leave the country; then there was her meeting with E and how she had Embraced him to save his life after she had accidentally taken too much blood from him. 

_5/08/04 – I haven't been able to feed since that night with E. I'm afraid of what will happen. I remember Rolf brought blood from the blood bank. Maybe if I can sneak in, I can grab a few bags and get out before anyone catches me._

Evie frowned as she read the final entry in the diary. That had been written a little under three months ago. Why had Lily not come back for the diary? Had she gotten caught? If so, where had she gone then? Surely the police wouldn’t have arrested her if she had gotten caught… Would they?

It was still the only lead she had, and she had already doubted that chasing after Toten’s bail bond would put her on Lily’s trail which she’d been wrong about. Was there any harm in heading over to the blood bank to have a look around and find something that would lead her to Lily?

With a sigh, she tucked the diary into Lily’s purse and tucked it back into her rucksack. It was time to find out.

[]

There was a side door into the blood bank, in the alley between the clinic and the shutdown cafe next door. Evie left Jacob outside to keep watch before heading inside. There were two sets of stairs, one headed up and the other down. According to the signage, the blood bank was downstairs.

Slowly she descended, wondering exactly how she was going to go about asking about Lily. Maybe just ask if a red haired woman had come by a few months ago to donate blood? And if not then… Sneak in? Take a look around? Hope Lily had left something behind.

“Ugh, this is a stupid idea…” she muttered to herself as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

There was a pair of vending machines for snacks and fizzy drinks, and a door that led into a corridor that sloped downwards to a window. There was a man standing behind the glass looking incredibly bored, and he looked up as Evie approached. The badge on his scrubs said that his name was Vandal Cleaver.

“You next up for the needle? Hmm? Your donation could save a life, you know.” But then he took a real look at Evie and his expression shifted. The professional near-smile tightened and his eyes glimmered with something like venom in the sterile light. “Oh, but isn’t it a little late for altruism? I don’t think you’re here to give blood at all. I don’t buy it, Jack. I bet you’re here to take blood. Am I right?”

Evie flinched at his intensity, as well as the fact that he knew what she was. He didn’t have fangs… Was he a ghoul? She had no idea how she was supposed to tell.

“Ugh, you know they all come in here with that same, nonchalant ‘who me?’ stare, as if they were so clever,” he snorted disdainfully. “Do you think you’re the first vampire to try and come in here to buy blood? Honestly.”

Buy blood? So this guy was who Mercurio got those blood packs from, the ones in her fridge. She still had some money in her pocket. Was there any harm in picking up some extra while she was here?

“How much?” she asked, pulling out her wallet.

“Ninety-nine for regular blood. A hundred and ninety-eight for blue blood.”

Evie balked.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Vandal sneered at her.

“What’s the matter, little vampire? Too rich for your tastes? What a shame. But blood don’t grow on trees, so either pay up or get lost.”

She scowled and shoved her wallet back into her pocket. So much for topping up her supply. At least it made sense why Lily had tried to steal it rather than paying.

“Whatever. There’s another thing I’m here for anyway. I need to get into the back.”

“Employees only - them’s the rules of the Queen Bitch herself.”

Definitely a ghoul, and it didn’t sound like he cared much for vampires. If she had to take a wild guess, this ‘Queen Bitch’ could only be Therese Voerman. The same person she was supposed to go to talk to.

“The ‘Queen Bitch’ sent me. She wants to make sure things are running smoothly. Consider this an inspection.”

Vandal scowled at her.

“Queen Bitch didn’t tell me to expect anyone,” he hissed.

“Go ahead and call her. She’ll tell you,” Evie bluffed, all while praying that he didn’t call the bluff by actually calling Therese.

He glowered a moment longer then pressed something under his desk. Evie braced herself for the worst.

“Open,” he spat, jerking his head towards the door on Evie’s right. 

Her heart soared. He’d bought it.

“I’ll try not to make a mess,” she said smugly.

She began her search, checking the various rooms for any sign of Lily. There was a row of freezers to her immediate right when she entered, some rooms for blood-drawing, and a staff room. She came across a computer in one of the rooms but she needed a password.

She’d picked up a very basic hacking trick from Finn, a member of Lee’s Drifter group, but she couldn’t be certain that it was going to be good enough to get in. Still she tried it anyway, because nothing ventured, nothing gained.

As she began to input the hacking trick, she could almost feel the blood concentrating in her brain, and if she didn’t know any better, she might have thought that she was thinking faster and more sharply. 

One by one, the password began to fill in.

  1. _M. B. R. O. S. I. A._



And just like that, she was in.

“No way!” 

She grinned brightly as the menu opened. She started digging around; there was no mention of Lily or any break-ins or any missing blood, but there was - weirdly enough - a passcode for one of the freezers.

“Nineteen sixty nine…” she murmured. She didn’t remember seeing any code locks on the freezers, so it struck her as odd that there was one recorded here… And if the freezers did use passcodes, why would they all share the same code?

There was something odd going on here, and it was time to find out how it was related to Lily.

She returned to the freezers, hoping that Vandal wasn’t in the middle of calling Therese to ask if she had sent anyone for an inspection, or that he wasn’t going to come out and try to chivy her out before she was finished investigating.

There were three freezers, all lined up down a single hallway and with not a code pad between them. She frowned. So Vandal and his pals had a code for a non-existent code pad, did they? 

She glanced over her shoulder. 

Vandal didn’t seem to be emerging from his office yet, and she couldn’t hear him talking to anyone, so she decided to take a chance. She pushed down the handle of the first freezer and stepped inside.

The cold didn’t bother her in the slightest even as some old instinct told her that it ought to. The freezer was filled with cardboard boxes, all filled with preserved packs of blood. Evie didn’t know much about medicine, but she got the feeling that blood wasn’t typically frozen like this when it was intended for blood transfusions. More likely, this was what Vandal planned to sell to his undead clients. 

Interestingly enough, many of the bags were labelled with ‘THIN’, with a handful of others labelled ‘BLUE’ or ‘REGULAR’. 

Frowning, Evie straightened up and began shifting boxes around, searching the walls for any sign of a code pad of some sort. And sure enough, on the left hand wall, she found it.

“Can’t hide from me, Vandal,” she murmured.

She input the code and there was an affirmative beep. A section of the wall shifted and swung outward, revealing a lever in a crawl space behind it. Frowning, Evie reached for the lever. She gave it a tug, and the section of the wall opposite swung open slowly.

Blood. A lot of it. It filled her nostrils as it wafted out of the room beyond. Evie followed the smell and finally found what she was looking for.

Lily was strapped into a chair by the throat and wrists, with tubes hooked into her veins. They were filled with blood, and they fed into the wall behind her. 

Evie stared in horror and unconsciously crossed the room, suddenly not giving a damn whether or not Vandal was calling Therese or not. Lily’s plan to rob the blood bank clearly hadn’t worked out, but to imprison her like this… It was monstrous.

“Lily?”

She didn’t respond at first save for the twitching of her lips.

“Lily, can you hear me?”

“Let me go,” she said in a tiny, mewling voice. “Please… I’m so hungry… let me go…”

“Okay, just… give me a second.”

She fumbled with the needles first, carefully sliding them out of Lily’s veins and letting them fall to the floor. The blood that splattered out over the tiles smelled delicious, but she tried not to focus on it as she started unfastening the straps around her wrists and throat.

And just as the last one came undone, the door opened.

“W-wha-?”

Lily shot forward like a bolt, flying at the wall, then pushing off of it on one foot to launch herself at the nurse who had walked in. He let out a strangled shriek as she threw him to the ground, clamped down on his throat and began to drink, sucking harder and harder until there couldn’t possibly be anything left.

Evie stared in shock as the man convulsed under her grasp until he stopped moving altogether. He went limp on the ground, drained of colour… and of blood. And slowly, Lily raised from the floor, trembling from head to toe.

“...what have I done…?” she whispered, her eyes huge and round as she looked down at her hands. “...what… I didn’t… I- _Oh god_!”

She buried her hands in her hair and looked like she was about to start tearing it out before Evie approached, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t you,” she said reassuringly. “That was the Beast, I think. Taking over.”

She flinched away from Evie, still shaking in fear, blood still smeared over her mouth.

“B-beast?!” She looked closer at Evie and then blinked, undoubtedly because she suddenly understood. “What is that? Why did it feel so… _satisfying_?”

“Because that’s what the Beast does. But it wasn’t your fault. You were starving, you were scared.” It took every bit of will she had to not look at the body on the floor. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

But Lily shook her head adamantly.

“But if I hadn’t- I tried to steal some blood. I heard they sold it - I was hungry and I can’t hunt in town but I knew I’d never be able to afford any! They caught me- I was strapped - trapped - I thought I’d never escape. B-but now I’ve killed a man!”

She stumbled through her sentences, starting some before she finished others, out of her mind with fear.

“It was an accident Lily,” Evie pressed. “From what E and Doris told me, you’d never mean to kill anyone.”

Lily flinched as if she’d been burned, but the fear in her eyes seemed to lessen a little.

“Y-you know E? I… how do you know E?”

Evie explained, starting with her conversation with E and how it had led to her search. Putting it into words made her realise just how weird the trail had been, starting from nothing and winding up in the blood bank, but maybe that’s just how things were going to be from now on.

By the time she was done, Lily seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

“So E… doesn’t hate me anymore?”

“Not at all, Lily. You should go talk to him. He’s waiting down at Santa Monica Beach, near the pier.”

She seemed to brighten a little, a small tentative hope blossoming in her eyes.

“I will. Thank you-”

“Hey!”

Lily turned and so did Evie. Standing in the doorway and looking absolutely furious, cleaver in hand, was Vandal. He was snarling furiously, looking from the dead nurse, to Lily, and then to Evie.

“Now why did you have to go and let that bitch out?!” he snapped. “Now there’s one less Phil in the world! Why’d you have to let her go and eat him?! Now I’ll never get to do in that bastard myself!”

Evie glared at Vandal, fists curled.

“Its two vampires versus one ghoul, pal. Exactly how well do you expect this fight to go for you?” she spat, though she was definitely bluffing at this point. 

She had no idea how much skill Vandal had with that cleaver, but he was definitely unstable and most likely very dangerous. He had apparently managed to overpower Lily, despite her being a vampire, even a thinblooded one. Would he be able to fare against two?

Apparently not, because Vandal snarled and lowered his weapon.

“Fine. Fine, just get outta here!” he snapped. 

Lily didn’t hesitate and took off at a sprint. But when Evie moved to follow, Vandal pointed the cleaver at her.

“But let me make one thing clear, _Princess_. No blood for you! No more!”

Evie scoffed at him.

“As if I want it now that I know where you’re getting it, you bastard,” she spat. “Now get out of my way.”

Vandal just sneered and marched off back to his booth, swinging the cleaver as if he was slashing at something all while he muttered under his breath, and Evie decided she didn’t want to stick around for another second.

[]

E was waiting when Evie showed up at the beach, beaming as if he’d just won the lottery. He was so happy, he even scooped her up into a hug as soon as she was in arm’s reach.

“You brought my Lily back! She told me all about what happened. Your blood is worth bottle’ mate, I’ll never let her go again. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble. And one hell of an adventure,” she laughed. “I’m just glad that she’s safe now. That Vandal guy was a lunatic.”

“So I hear. We’re gonna be gettin’ out of LA soon. Too dangerous here. Rosa told us that something big’s gonna happen and I don’t wanna be here when the Jack comes out of the box. Take for that what you will.”

“‘Jack comes out of the box?’” Evie echoed, not entirely certain she wanted to be there when it happened either. “Thanks for the warning. And good luck, to all of you.”

He nodded and returned to the fireside alongside the rest of the thinbloods. But Lily remained apart, separate, scratching her elbow with her head bowed as if she had something she wanted to say.

Evie decided to make it easier for her.

“Hey. You holding up alright?”

She flinched a little, but smiled.

“Yes. I’m alright. Thanks to you. I’m still not sure why you helped me and E, but… well.”

She trailed off and Evie reached into her rucksack.

“Here. Doris asked me to pass these back to you if I happened to run into you.” She held out the purse. “Not sure this is what she had in mind, but…”

Lily smiled.

“Thank you. For everything. This life has been hard on E. On both of us. But he forgives me, and I think we’re going to be alright now. I have some family in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. We should be safe out there, so long as we’re together.”

Evie couldn’t resist a grin.

“Good to hear. You take care of each other, alright? And Lily. Try not to blame yourself too much. You didn’t know.”

A silent understanding passed between them, but then Evie glanced over to the other thinbloods and couldn’t help but notice that they all looked a little afraid. E and Lily had been caught up in the joy of being reunited, but even Rosa looked perturbed.

“Is something wrong?” Evie asked, glancing at the others with a furrowed brow.

“T-the w-was an-nother v-vampire here,” Julius stuttered. “Le-left j-just before y-you g-got here.”

“Another vampire? Did they give you guys trouble? They didn’t hurt anyone did they?”

Copper shook his head.

“No, but… But he asked a load of questions. Weird questions. None of us knew what to make of him-”

“The Lone Wolf was seeking answers to his questions,” Rosa interrupted. “He hasn’t found- will not find them in the City of Angels. But he will pursue them nonetheless.”

“The Lone Wolf?” Evie exclaimed. “That vampire you told me about before? One of the people I can trust?”

Rosa nodded.

“He sought knowledge that we do not have. Still seeks it… Do _not_ open it!”

She stared into the fire fearfully, as if she was contemplating throwing herself _into_ it. If so, she refrained from doing so. 

Evie left the thinbloods, her head still full of questions. This vampire, the Lone Wolf, was looking for answers in LA. Answers that, according to Rosa, he wouldn’t find. He was also one of the only people that she could trust, along with Mercurio.

Her thoughts turned momentarily to the wolf she had seen earlier that evening before shaking her head. 

No. It probably had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t like vampires could turn into wolves… could they? There was just so much she still didn’t know.

She checked her watch. Dawn was still a few hours away, and she wasn’t feeling tired just yet. She still had to check Carson’s apartment for Arthur which she could do on the way home, and then whatever she learned, she could take back to him before turning in for the night.

Jacob trotted along at her side and nudged her leg with his nose.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We won’t be out too much longer, okay?”

So they headed for the Santa Monica Suites. As it turned out, Carson’s apartment was opposite from Mercurio’s. Evie swiped the key card and the lock gave an affirmative beep as it clicked open.

“Carson? Are you home?”

No response. She pushed the door open and stuck her head inside.

The apartment was empty, and judging from the fine layer of dust, it had been for a few days. Frowning, she stepped inside and looked around. There was a laptop on the coffee table and a tape recorder next to it that was labelled ‘McGee notes’.

She pressed the play button and it whirred to life.

_“Check, check. Is this thing recording? God, I hate these things. Uh, anyway. The, uh, McGee case is getting weirder all the time. I found where he's been hiding, and I saw some really creepy stuff down there. There was also no sign of McGee down there. I'm gonna follow up on another lead I got, too. Uh, this is Carson, signing off. Man, that sounds stupid…”_

Evie frowned. It hadn’t been quite as illuminating as she’d hoped. Still it seemed that Carson was pursuing whatever case Arthur had him working on rather than slacking off. What remained was where he was now. She decided to try taking a crack at the laptop. She’d had enough luck at the blood bank that she felt a bit more confident this time around.

  1. _M. A. L. I. A._



“There we go,” Evie said, grinning. 

She found more notes on Carson’s investigation into this McGee character, the bounty he was tracking for Arthur, which proved to have a little more information for her.

_Location - McGee is hiding in the tattoo parlor in Santa Monica. Key - Don't forget the key to the tattoo parlor. It's on top of the TV._

Sure enough there was another card key sitting on top of the TV with _Devil’s Brand Tattoos_ printed on it. No doubt Arthur would want to see this.

But then… Evie had found Lily. Against all odds, she had found her with nothing more than a vague clue as to where to start and a few tenuously connected leads. If she could do that, surely she could follow Carson’s trail, no problem?  
It would save Arthur the time and money of finding another bounty hunter to chase up the lead, and if something weird was going on, then it was probably in Carson’s best interest if someone got to it sooner rather than later.

Jacob whined beside her, as if he knew what she was thinking.

“Oh don’t be like that. We’ve still got a few hours of moonlight to burn,” she said. “We can totally find Carson ourselves. We found Lily.”

He grumbled disapprovingly.

“Whatever. Come on, let’s go check out this tattoo parlour.”

[]

As Carson’s message had said, the tattoo parlour was completely empty. The basement, however, certainly seemed strange.

McGee had definitely been hiding out down here, judging by the soiled mattress in the corner, but taped to the walls were photos of hands and arms at various angles, with a single advertisement posted in the centre for Gimble’s Prosthetics, which had a contact number printed on it.

“Seems that McGee was hoping that the pay from Gimble’s job could cover his bail,” Evie mused. “Worth giving Gimble a call perhaps?”

Jacob barked approvingly.

“Yeah, I thought so. After all, Carson probably talked to him too.”

So she pulled out her phone and dialled in the number on the poster. It only occurred to her a second later that Gimble might be asleep, but then the call went through and someone answered.

“This is Gimble’s Prosthetics, Stanley Gimble speaking. How can I help you?” chirped the voice on the other end.

“Hi, Mr Gimble? I was calling to ask if maybe you might know anything about a Mr McGee.”

“Mr McGee? Oh right, yes. I had an appointment with him a few days ago, but he never seemed to show up. Might I ask why you’re calling after him?”

Evie hesitated.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she lied. “He skipped bail and I’ve been sent to find him.”

“O-oh. Right.”

“My search led me to a place he’s been hiding out in, and I found one of your advertisements. Could I ask what kind of appointment you had with him?”

“Well yes, of course. Mr McGee was going to be doing some modelling for me. Medical reference for the work I do here in the studio. It’s a shame really. The offer would have been quite lucrative for him.”

‘And he couldn’t afford to miss out on it,’ Evie thought to herself. “I see. Would you mind if I came by and asked you some questions, Mr Gimble? Anything you could tell me about Mr McGee would really help me out.”

“Why yes, of course! I would be delighted to assist you, Miss…?”

“Byrne.”

“Byrne. Right, Miss Byrne. I’m at the end of Main Street; basement studio. Just ring the buzzer and I’ll let you in.”

“Right, I’ll be there in a minute Mr Gimble. Talk to you soon.”

She hung up and looked at Jacob.

“Well, we’ve got a lead.” He whined. “I know I shouldn’t have told him I’m a bounty hunter, but we need whatever leads we can get if we’re going to find Carson. And if that means following McGee’s trail…”

He didn’t look any happier about the idea, but he followed regardless.

They still had time before dawn. A talk with Gimble, and then depending on what turned up, they could either chase it up or turn it over to Arthur. They headed up the street, mostly ignored by the other passersby, until they reached the steps leading into Gimble’s studio.

Evie rang the buzzer.

“Hello?” 

“Hi Mr Gimble, it’s Byrne. We talked on the phone earlier.”

“Oh right, yes. Just a moment.” There was a loud buzz. “Do come in, please!”

Inside was a rather nice waiting room, with cream tiles, white walls, and chairs arranged around the edges. There was a water cooler in the corner, some potted plants, and a coffee table in the centre in the room with magazines covering it, and the speaker on the wall was playing classical music.

“Ah, hello Miss Byrne. I must say, you’re younger than I expected.” Gimble strolled over, smiling quizzically at her. It was then that she noticed that he had a prosthetic right arm himself.

“I get that a lot,” she said vaguely. “Mr Gimble, you told me that you were supposed to have a modelling appointment with Mr McGee.”

“Hm. Oh yes, right. The mysterious Mr McGee. Well, as I said, he was supposed to show up a few days ago for a photography session. Reference for my work, that kind of thing.” He held up his arm for example. 

“But he never showed up? You never saw him?”

“No he didn’t,” Gimble replied, shaking his head. “Before, I’d asked him to take a few pictures of himself for my… perusal. A resume, you might say. And that was the last I’d heard from him.”

Evie frowned. Gimble wasn’t quite looking her in the eye, and there was something… odd about his demeanour. The twitch of his lips, and the coldness in his eyes… He was hiding something.

“Mr Gimble-”

“Oh please, Miss Byrne. Let us dispense of the formalities. You may call me Stan.”

“Right. Uh. Stan. Does the name Carson ring any bells?”

There it was again, the corners of his lips twitched before he answered. 

“Carson? ...No. I don’t think so. Oh, oh, look. I know I’ve got some information on Mr McGee back in my files. Do you want me to try and dig it up?”

And just like that, changing the conversation back to McGee. He was _definitely_ hiding something and now he was trying to distract her.

“Sure, that would be fantastic Stan.”

“Oh don’t mention it. Just wait here a moment, and I’ll be right along.”

“Sure. I’ll wait here.”

She moved to sit down, but then as McGee was leaving the room, her heightened senses caught a murmur escape his lips.

“Such beautiful arms… I simply must have them.”

Her head snapped up, but Gimble was already gone. A sense of icy dread descended on her like a veil and she glanced at Jacob who was now growling fiercely at the door.

“...We have to go after him.”

He barked disapprovingly and moved to block the door.

“If Carson and McGee are down there, we have to help them!” she argued before pushing back the dog who reluctantly followed.

The ‘studio’ was more reminiscent of a dungeon. Bare, cracked concrete, dank lighting, and too many damned mannequins for her liking. The whole place reeked of creepy serial killer. 

She had no idea how on the nose she was until she descended further and came across jail cells lining either side of the staircase, some of which were covered in blood. There were medical tools in some, diagrams in others, and the further Evie went, the more certain she was that she was making a terrible mistake.

She should have ran and fetched a cop or something. But she was a _vampire_ for god’s sake. She had powers that Gimble could only dream of. She could handle one deranged lunatic, surely?

Well she was about to find out.

A pair of double doors awaited her, and, with a shaky breath, she pulled out the lead pipe she had taken from Toten’s care. She’d thank her past self for that later. Screwing up every last bit of courage she had, she elbowed open the door and stepped inside.

There was an operating table in the centre of the room, and it was freshly bloodied. Her stomach turned at the sight of it, but she’d taken no more than two steps into the room when someone called out to her.

“Hey! Help! You gotta get me outta here! This guy’s a freaking nutjob!”

Evie spun on her heel before she realised that there were two more cells - locked cells - behind her, and there was a man yelling at her through the bars. 

“You mean Gimble?”

“‘You mean Gimble?’ Yeah, Gimble! That guy’s been taking pieces off of me and McGee for three days!-” Carson then. “-He’s crazy, man! Freaking crazy!”

There was a thud from behind the door at the far end of the room and Evie turned. Jacob started growling loudly and she held her pipe at the ready.

“Kid, my gun! It’s in the drawer there!” he barked. “Grab it before-!”

Too late.

Gimble opened the door with a cold, dead look on his face. In his hand - the real one - he held a machete. One that looked to have just been cleaned and sharpened. His eyes fixed on Carson, and his expression transformed into a polite, twisted smile.

“Now, now Carson. No helping your young friend,” he said a little too cheerfully. “As for you, Miss Byrne; if you’ll please hold still. I’ll be adding your parts to my collection.”

Jacob sprung first, taking three bounding leaps across the room and biting down hard on Gimble’s arm. The fake one. Gimble grinned evilly and lifted the blade with every intention of plunging it down into the dog’s chest.

“NO!”

Evie darted forwards as the blade came down and swung her pipe into the side of Gimble’s head. He hollered angrily, his face turning red, but he remained standing. She got the sudden, horrible feeling that he might just be someone’s ghoul and not quite so easy to take down as she had hoped.

“Jacob, leave!” she ordered, and he backed off as Gimble readied his machete again. 

She reversed her grip on the pipe, placed her other hand on the base and smashed it into his head with every ounce of strength she had, which was not insubstantial. He swiped at her in return, drawing a thin line of blood from her cheek.

He swung again, but Evie dodged out of his reach. She tried to whistle, to calm him down, but it failed completely. He definitely wasn’t an ordinary human, but he lacked fangs. He had to be a ghoul. And she couldn’t fight him without getting close, not unless she could reach Carson’s gun before Gimble could stop her…

And she really didn’t want to use Carson’s gun.

Again Gimble swung at her, and she held up her pipe to block the blow. She pushed back, throwing him off balance, but nothing was really hurting or deterring him. Fuck, at this rate she'd have no choice… 

Jacob surged forwards, barking like mad as he pounced at Gimble and tried to bite down on his throat. 

Anxiety tore through her as she made a dash for the cabinet that Carson had previously indicated and she rifled through it, desperate to find the gun. 

Gimble blocked his teeth with his prosthetic arm while his flesh hand started scrabbling for the dropped machete. 

The gun was lying at the bottom of the drawer, fully loaded and ready to go. If she wasn’t pumped with adrenaline and desperation, she’d have had more hesitation in picking the damnable thing up. Even so, her hands were shaking badly as they grasped the handle, and it took every ounce of self control that she had to not let her trembling finger pull the trigger by accident.

“GET OFF YOU DAMN MUTT!”

She turned and raised the gun just in time. Gimble had the machete in hand once more and was angling to gut Jacob. 

There was a thunderous crack as the bullet pierced the centre of Gimble’s forehead, drilling him right between the eyes. His head cracked backwards against the concrete, and Evie didn’t see the way his eyes bulged in shock and fury. Then his arm went limp and the machete clattered to the floor. 

Jacob stepped away from the body, his muzzle splattered with blood, but otherwise he was unharmed. He turned and trotted over to Evie, whining and nudging her thigh.

She didn’t respond. Just stared at the lifeless corpse on the ground, gun still raised, and a bead of blood sweat trickling down her face. Old memories, compounded by fear and some hidden even from her, began to well up.

_“Leave him alone!”_

_Jacob was still, his eyes glazed over, his throat bloody and red._

_He rose from the floor, teeth stained white._

_Monstrous fury in the face of defiance-_

_Raw primal fear-_

_A deafening crack!_

When Evie came to, she was lying on the ground. She was curled against a body, warm and solid and musky. She trailed a hand over familiar scarred skin, feeling the short bristles of fur under her fingers, and when the body turned, she was welcomed by a wet, slobbery tongue.

“Jacob…?”

Not her Jacob. Not her brother. But this one was just as welcome at the moment. He rose to his paws and nudged her gently, snorting as he did so as if he was scolding her.

She wouldn’t be surprised if he was. She’d gone chasing after Carson, doing more than Arthur had asked of her. How much trouble was she going to be in exactly? She didn’t know, but she didn’t really care either. What mattered was that they were alive and Gimble was-

She paused.

Right. Gimble.

She looked over to where the body was still splayed out on the floor. A pool of blood had spread out under his head and he was staring wide eyed at the ceiling with a hole in his forehead.

Her stomach clenched horribly and for a moment she would have sworn that she was about to pass out again. 

“Hey! You! You’re finally awake!”

She flinched and her head snapped up towards the source of the voice. Carson was at his cell door and peering out at her.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up. You have any idea how long its been since you passed out?” He shook his head. “Look, come open up this door and you can tell me how the hell a kid like you ended up in a place like this.”

Rising shakily to her feet, Evie did as he asked, wondering how the hell she was going to explain any of this to Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not apologise for the Skyrim joke. Ever.  
> Thank you all for your continued support, as always :D


	4. The Hunter Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie continues to put off her responsibilities to Prince Lacroix, and tragedy ensues.

“Do you have any idea how much fucking legal bull could come from this, kid? Do ya?!”

Evie winced and stared hard at the floor as Arthur paced the length of the office. Jacob sat at her feet and growled low in his throat whenever the man strayed a little too close or if he raised his voice too much.

Carson had called the police in to handle the clean up at Gimble’s before bringing Evie back to Kilpatrick’s Bail Bonds to fill in his employer on all that had happened. To say that Arthur was furious would be so large an understatement that saying that water is wet would itself seem like a world altering statement.

“Not only do ya lie and claim to be a bounty hunter, you also go and throw yourself at a dangerous lunatic?! Do you even-?!”

He cut himself short and clenched his fist as if he was struggling to convey just how much trouble he could end up in if the police found out that he had hired her in the first place. Carson, however, wasn’t nearly so concerned.

“Relax Arthur. We got time to get our stories straight. Besides, can’t say that your recruit didn’t get results.”

Arthur glowered at Carson.

“Alright. So what is our story then, eh? How the fuck do we explain this off to any pigs who come asking questions?”

“I dunno. Any ideas, kid?”

She looked up at him and swallowed as she considered some ideas.

“Well instead of Arthur sending me to find you, we’ll just say that I was looking for my sister who had an appointment with Gimble,” she suggested. “Gimble lured me into the basement and tried to attack me. Jacob-” the dog barked “-kept him from killing me, and gave me the chance to fight back.

“By the way, I did find my sister,” she added, looking at Arthur. “So it turns out that I’m pretty good at this ‘finding people’ thing.”

“It’s not about being good at it!” he snapped, before throwing his hands up. “Fine, fuck it, that’s the story we’ll tell if the police come asking questions about you.” He then marched over to his desk and pulled out an entire wad of cash. “You did the job and you brought Carson back, so here. Take this, and if the cops come asking questions, I’ve never heard of ya.”

Evie took the cash and stuffed it into her bag.

“Deal.”

[]

Evie paused at the curb and wondered what she was supposed to do now. She had slept a whole day away at Gimble’s, curled up on the floor of the basement after passing out from… something. Her memory was fuzzy; everything that happened after Gimble caught her talking to Carson was either a blur or just missing entirely. She remembered grabbing a gun, the kick of the recoil and the crack of the bullet… But a lot was missing.

She shook her head, trying not to think about it. Those weren’t the kind of memories she should be trying to remember. She ought to be figuring out what else she might be able to do to put off going to Therese.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed and she flipped it open. There was a single message from-

“Ugh, Lacroix…” she groaned, opening the message.

 **_< Subject> A Favour_ ** **_  
_** **_< From> Lacroix_ ** **  
**_It has come to our attention that a sample of werewolf blood has made it into the hands of the local tabloid, and that they have sent it on to the clinic in Santa Monica for testing. The responsible party has been dealt with (most painfully, I can assure you), but for obvious reasons we can't have anyone testing the blood. Please retrieve the blood sample from the clinic and leave it in your mailbox. You will be compensated accordingly. – SL_

She raised a brow and snapped the phone shut.

“Guess I’m talking to Therese then.”

Lacroix had claimed that he was now responsible for her, had made a big show about the importance of following the rules, and then dumped her on the street with no information about _any_ of what any of those rules were. If it wasn’t for Jack, she’d know even less than she did, so it really ought not to be very surprising that she was happy to keep the Prince waiting. Besides, she wasn’t especially keen on the idea of breaking into the clinic again after her run-in with Vandal the previous night.

So Evie set off up the street towards the Asylum with Jacob trotting at her heels.

She’d passed it before during her trips to Santa Monica, and not once had she even considered the possibility that it was run by vampires. Though she guessed that was the point. Sam had been once before, though hadn’t made a point to go back. 

‘Not my kind of place,’ was all she’d said.

There was a ‘no dogs’ sign at the door, so Jacob waited outside while Evie ventured into the viper’s nest.

The last time she had visited a club had been the Asp Hole, and back then her senses have been packed with stimulus; the smell of sweat and alcohol permeating the air, the thumping of the music, and the near complete darkness that was penetrated only by disco lights and the dim underlighting of the bar.  
Maybe it was just her new vampiric senses, but the Asylum seemed far more intense with the sole exception of the lighting. She could see with perfect clarity, but it was difficult to concentrate as the music thumped so hard that her bones were practically quivering with every beat, and mingled amidst the sweat and alcohol, she couldn’t help but pick up on the coppery aroma of fresh blood.

She hovered in the entrance for several minutes as her senses adjusted to the intensity of the club, and once she managed to focus on anything that wasn’t the forming headache that was threatening to split her head in two, she made her way into the bar.

As Mercurio had said, the club had an… interesting clientele. There were people whose clothes were barely more than an assortment of leather straps, and the faces were painted with more makeup than a troupe of mimes with an AVON subscription, and not in a substantially different fashion.

There were no bouncers to keep her from walking in and towards the bar, but she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and caught sight of a familiar face standing nearby.

Without stopping to think, Evie’s path diverted and carried her over to Knox. He spotted her from the corner of his eye and waved as she approached.

“Hey girl!” 

“Hey Knox. What are you up to?”

He shrugged.

“Eh, not much. Just waitin’ around for my master.”

His hands started fidgeting in front of him and his eyes darted towards the door and back to Evie a couple of times like he expected Tung to walk through the door any moment now. His shoulders were tense too, and he’d evidently been worrying at his lower lip.

“The same ‘master’ you mentioned last time? Who even is this guy?”

“Okay, okay. I guess I can tell you about him,” he said, albeit a little too eagerly. “Oh man! His name’s Bertram Tung, he’s a Nosferatu.”

She raised a brow. What were the odds of that?

“Small world. I’m actually looking for Tung myself,” she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I might be able to find him?”

As she expected, he shook his head.

“Aw man, I wish I knew where he was! I’m gettin’ antsy waitin’ around for him,” he groaned. “I need to tell him some stuff, ya know? I dunno where he is or stays or anything! Aw man, I- Whenever he needs me, he just… ya know… appears.” 

He gestured with his hands, as if to mimic himself appearing out of thin air. Evie couldn’t say that she knew what he meant. She hadn’t seen much of the powers that a vampire had in their arsenal, besides what Jack and the Sheriff had demonstrated during the Sabbat raid and her own trick.

Still, she got the feeling that Knox was dying to tell her what he needed to tell Tung, she decided that she might as well keep the conversation going. Maybe Knox didn’t know where Tung was, but helping him out might still lead her to him without her having to go to Therese at all.

“So what is it that Tung has you doing?”

“Well, Bertram had me keeping an eye on this guy, this Asian dude who’s been pokin’ around Santa Monica. Bertram thought he might be a vampire or… something _like_ a vampire,” Knox explained.

“‘Like a vampire’?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “Aren’t all vampires meant to be the same? More or less?”

Knox shook his head.

“Aw man, I dunno. I’m as lost as you are. Like I said, Bertram has me watchin’ him. Except… Aw man, this guy. He got wise to me! Now instead of me watchin’ him, he’s watchin’ me, y’know.

“I see this guy appear around me all the time, like off in the distance watchin’ me, he’ll… warp up next to me, then ‘woo!’ disappears.”

He shuddered and glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see the vampire watching from the crowd.

But Evie had gotten very good at reading people and had learned to know when someone was fishing for a specific response. The last time they had spoken, Knox had refused to say too much about his mysterious master, and now - just when she was looking for Tung - he was all too happy to tell her about his affiliation?

And suddenly he was letting her in on his ‘secret mission’, and in spite of his level of acting skills, he hadn’t been able to hide the calculating look in his eyes. He was playing his cards carefully… Or he’d been told what to do and say beforehand.

“Okay, so was this your idea, or does Tung think I’m some kind of idiot?” she asked with a sign.

Knox’s grin wavered and his brow twitched, as if resisting the urge to furrow.

“W-what are you saying?” 

She folded her arms.

“Look Knox, I wanna help you out, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Either be straight with me, or tell Tung he can try playing someone else into doing his dirty work.”

That definitely caught Knox off guard and he visibly began to flounder, try as he might to hide it.

“Wha-? How did you know? Uh… look man. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Anyway, why should I tell you anything, huh? I mean, you’re not being straight with me,” he snapped defensively, scrabbling to reassemble his facade even as it crumbled.

She glowered at him and turned to walk away.

“Okay, okay! Damnit Knox, damn! Oh man, alright look, I messed up, okay? I’m just doing what I was told okay.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder, but didn’t turn back just yet.

“Bertram knew you’d be comin’, knew you’d come by here. He planted me and told me what to say about this weird vamp, but its true, I swear. And everything else is true too! This guy needs to be taken out. I can’t do it so…”

She didn’t reply. As the pause lengthened, she looked away again.

“I can’t do it, so Bertram needs you to,” he finally admitted.

Satisfied with the note of defeat in his voice, Evie turned back to him and folded her arms across her chest.

“If Tung wanted my help, he could have just asked.”

“Nuh uh uh, he can’t stick his neck out like that. He doesn’t deal directly. His way I guess.” He shook his head. “So. Can you do it?”

She was tempted to say no and go talk to Therese, as she had been planning to. But then was there any point in coercing the truth out of Knox and forcing him to ask for help directly for her to be an arsehole and say no?

So she nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hell yeah, right on! Okay, like I said, he’s some kind of Asian vampire, ya know? Dunno what’s so different about ‘em, Bertram doesn’t really know himself. The only clue I’ve got is this driver’s license that he dropped while I was tailing him. I’ve been so freaked out that I haven’t even had a chance to check it out.”

As he rummaged through his jacket pocket, Evie tilted her head to one side.

“Shouldn’t that tell you who he is?” she asked, as he produced the sliver of plastic.

Knox had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“No, the picture on the license isn’t him,” he replied. “I don’t know why he had it, but… well it might help you find out where he is and what he’s doing.”

Evie took it and inspected the picture. True enough, the man in the picture didn’t look to be of any particular Asian ethnicity. The name printed on it was ‘Virgil Crumb’, which was about the only useful bit of information it had. But she had done more with less, so she wouldn’t complain too much.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she repeated, pocketing the license.

[]

“What are you doin’ back here already?”

Evie glanced over at Arthur who still looked to be in a particularly bad mood after their last conversation. But she just produced the driver’s license as Jacob all but waltzed in and started sniffing at an open box of donuts left on top of the filing cabinet.

“I was asked to look someone up,” she said as she crossed over to the Krime-puter. “A friend of mine needs someone found.”

She could feel the incredulous stare on the back of her head as she began to search for any mention of Virgil Crumb, as she had looked up Rolf Toten the previous night.

“Who the hell keeps hiring you to do bounty hunter work?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Folks like you, perhaps?” she suggested before murmuring “there you are Crumb.”

 **_Virgil Crumb_ ** _– Bond written 03/25/02 – Two Counts Public Disturbance – Drunk and Nudity. Case#766141. Bond Amount: $5,000. Type of Bond: Cash – paid in full. Notes: Local. VOID: Subject's corpse identified. Being held at Medical Clinic Morgue. Authorities notifying next of kin._

So Crumb was already dead? No wonder a vampire had his license. Still, it meant she would be sneaking into an area of the clinic where she wasn’t supposed to be for the third time already. And Lacroix needed her to go there anyway, so she supposed she now had a reason to do that favour for him.

Behind her, Arthur sighed.

“Look, I’m still pissed with ya kid. But I’ve got someone who needs looking up, so if you’ve got the time to spare…”

Evie leaned over the back of the chair to raise a brow at Arthur.

“What? Carson taking a vacation after finding McGee?”

Arthur heaved a sigh.

“He retired. Fuckin’ lunatic cut off his trigger finger, and a bounty hunter’s no good without it. And I can’t even look up my other bounty hunter because he’s gone off the grid. I’ve not been able to find him for months now.”

“Oh? Who is he?”

“Knox Harrington. One of the best I ever had, and then he just up and disappears.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Look, you want the job or not?”

She shrugged and got to her feet, trying her damndest _not_ to look surprised at the mention of Knox. 

“Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

“I got this guy with a sheet a mile long, put in on three warrants. His girlfriend put up for the bond, and now he’s missed the court date. I can’t get in touch with either of ‘em. What I need you to do is drop by her place and see if you can find any sign of him. No body attachment, just find out if he’s here or where he went.

“And seriously kid, _only_ find out where he is. I’ve already had a call from the cops about the McGee case, I don’t need them finding out that I’ve had a kid running jobs.”

She just strolled around to the front of his desk, brow raised in mild amusement over the whole situation.

“Just give me the details, Arthur, and I’ll see if I can get you any leads.”

He shook his head in exasperation.

“Guy’s name is Mike Durbin, goes by the name ‘Muddy.’ Girlfriend’s name is Marian Murietta; she lives above Trip’s Pawnshop in apartment 507, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. If she’s there, just tell her to give me a call. If not, see what you can find.

“And remember: anything goes down, I’ve never heard of ya. Deal?”

He extended a hand and Evie shook it.

“Deal.”

“Good.” He then shooed her off. “Now get outta here.”

She set out into the night once more, already formulating her plan for the night. She had to search the clinic morgue for any clue that would lead her to the strange vampire, and then she had to steal a bag of werewolf blood. No doubt, those two things wouldn’t be in the same place at all. She’d have to sneak in, get a lay of the land and feel her way through it.

For now, she’d focus on the blood. She had been willing to put off the task before, but it probably wouldn’t be smart to leave that matter be for too long, so that ought to be her priority. Once she had it, she’d try to find the morgue. 

And once she was done pursuing her tasks for the night, she’d head home for the night and knock on Marian Murietta’s door; it was just across the hall from her apartment after all. A nice easy finish to round out the night.

It was probably going to be the only easy task she had after all.

[]

For once, it’d be nice if she could be wrong and things played out _more_ easily than she’d anticipated. 

She had secured the werewolf blood, which was now tucked safely in her mailbox as Lacroix had instructed, had found Crumb’s body in the Morgue along with his belongings - among which had been a keycard with Foxy Boxes stamped on it - and had followed the lead to the aforementioned building.

She had been searching the office when she discovered an unlocked laptop with a series of scouting reports. None of them indicated anything good, and, weirdly enough, he referred to the local vampires as ‘Cainites’ which struck her as strange. Jack had told her that vampires referred to themselves as Kindred.

Maybe this guy wasn’t a vampire after all.

Even more troubling, however, was the final report left on the computer… That had been made less than an hour ago.

**_10/22/04-2 – Report 05_ **

_The agent of whom I spoke before has discovered the corpse of Virgil Crumb. An altercation seems imminent. If I do not survive, let my last report state that Santa Monica is ripe for the taking. You will find little resistance if we come here in force._

So now here she was, standing beside Mercurio in the local pawn shop she lived above with Jacob nudging at her side, trying to convince the guy at the counter to show his stock of weapons.

“Are you serious?” he said incredulously. “I can’t go selling to every Jessie and Jaime that comes in off the street, and now you want me to sell to a kid?”

“Trust me Trip, she’s older than she looks,” Mercurio said smoothly. “You owe me the favour, and if that don’ cover it, I can get you that shit you’ve not been able to get.”

Trip contemplated, still scowling with his arms crossed as he weighed up the pros and cons of Mercurio’s offer. Then, finally, he submitted.

“Fine. But if she gets caught, I’m not having anything to do with it.”

“Good. Now whaddaya have? We need whatever we can get.”

They spent the next ten minutes inspecting Trip’s less-than-legal wares, with Mercurio advising on what she might need if she was going up against some kind of supernatural being. If the guy she was looking for was at all some kind of vampire, as Tung had told Knox, then bladed weapons would serve her better than firearms, yet Mercurio still insisted she also take a gun as a precaution.

“Might not kill ‘em, but stunning this guy could mean the difference between life and death- or, well, y’know. Dead and deader,” he advised once they were outside and safely out of Trip’s earshot.

“Thanks, I appreciate the advice,” she said flatly.

She was still going up against a complete unknown with only Jacob serving as her back up. Jacob barked and nudged her side. Knowing him, he was probably encouraging her to _not_ go running off after this ‘Asian vampire.’

“I told Knox I’d handle this guy,” she said firmly. “You can go back to the apartment if you want.”

He whined but didn’t move from her side. That was that then.

“Well let’s not burn anymore moonlight. Let’s go find this guy.”

[]

Foxy Boxes was across the street from the Asylum, and much like Evie’s first visit, it was eerily quiet inside. There were no signs of any workers, and the dust had only been disturbed when she first arrived to scout the place out. Aside from her footprints and Jacob’s pawprints, there was no indication that anyone had been inside for weeks or longer. 

Why Virgil Crumb had the key, she wasn’t sure, and why this vampire, or whatever he was, had taken his driver’s license was also unclear. It all seemed too convenient. Unless of course his plan had always been to lure her here, in which case she was walking right into a trap.

 _Not like I haven’t already done that_ , she thought to herself as she hovered outside the door of the warehouse itself. Her fingers flexed around the handle of the knife that she had chosen at Trip’s place.

Gimble had been a ghoul at best, and he’d still nearly overpowered her. This guy, this vampire, was not only much tougher than Gimble had been but was prepared for her to fight back and seemed to anticipate she’d put up a fight in the process. Enough so that he fully accepted death as a possibility… Unless, of course, he knew she’d find the report and was trying to trick her somehow.

Jacob nudged her thigh. She flinched and swallowed.

“Right. Might as well get this over with,” she said, screwing up every last bit of courage she had and steeling herself for the battle to come. She grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, and stepped into the warehouse proper.

There were stacks of crates arranged so that they almost stood in a square with just enough space between them for a person to walk. It wasn’t at all typical, so it was obvious that they had been arranged that way on purpose.

Jacob growled, and, right on cue, a man did indeed stroll out from behind one of the stacks.

If Evie didn’t know better, he might just be a typical Chinese man; he wore a black t-shirt and a leather jacket with dark trousers and trainers. But he had a long blade at his hip and a shotgun in his hands.

He fixed Evie with a focused gaze, not even blinking, as he pointed the barrel at her.

She dived sideways behind one of the stacks and Jacob followed, his ears flat against his head. But there was no crack of a shotgun, just the near-silent creak of wood bending under foot. The pair skirted around the edge of the room, ducking into the shadows of the nearby walkway just as the other vampire - Evie honestly couldn’t tell if he was anything _but_ a vampire - leapt from one stack to another, eyes scanning for any sign of them.

She considered, briefly, reaching for her gun but the thought made her feel sick. She’d prefer to avoid using it if possible. Instead she watched and waited as the other vampire leapt to the next stack, his finger gently tracing the trigger in anticipation.

She signalled to Jacob to stay, and crept towards the stack, moving as quickly and silently as she could manage. Once she gripped the edge of the top box where he stood, she took her knife and jammed it through the back of his knee.

There was a burst of warm, coppery blood that spilled over her hand, and it was likely pure resolve that kept him from screaming, but he did gasp in pain as his knee buckled beneath him. Evie ripped the blade back out as his leg folded on itself and this time aimed just above his hip. But he twisted away, tumbling out of sight over the other side.

Pressing her advantage, Evie pulled herself up, knife at the ready. 

But he was already gone, having vanished from view. Except not entirely because she could smell his blood wafting in the otherwise musty air. It was coming from the next stack, and there was a crimson smear on the box. 

Evie followed it, fingers flexing around the handle of her knife in anxious anticipation. Still the vampire made no attempt to move, made not a noise… She peered over the edge.

She saw the glimmer of silver at the corner of her eye just in time as the vampire thrusted the sword at her.

Backpedalling, Evie stumbled at the edge of the crate and felt her balance tip backwards. A rough shove of the crate from the opposite side sent it - and her - crashing to the ground. The wood splintered and cracked, and packing peanuts and metal poles showered across the ground, filling the air with the shriek of metal on concrete. And as Evie scrambled to try and get away, another crate sailed through the air. It landed hard, shattering against her shoulder as it cracked open and its contents pinned her to the ground.

She squinted upwards as her entire chest went tight with panic. The other vampire stood atop the now-shortened stack and raised his sword. She tried to wiggle herself free, and given a few extra seconds, she might have managed it in time. But he wasn’t willing to give her those seconds.

The vampire sprung, and Evie squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for cold, sharp metal to bury itself through her neck…!

Then there was a thunderous bark, a strangled yelp, and a heavy thump as bodies hit the ground.

She opened her eyes.

Jacob was snapping at the back of the vampire’s neck, his slobbering canines dripping with blood as his muscular body pinned down the creature. He’d bought her the few seconds she needed.

Evie wriggled and realised her ankle was pinned by a steel bar and the wooden frame of the broken crate. The vampire was elbowing Jacob in the face, trying to push him away as he reached for the sword that lay on the ground.

She reached under the shattered wood and grabbed the bar and wrenched it upwards. The pressure on her ankle lessened and she pulled her foot free, and crawled free from the wreckage just as a high, pained screaming yelp pierced her ears.

Her blood went cold and just as she looked up, the vampire pulled his retrieved blade free from Jacob’s gut with an irritated flick. He pressed his foot to the dog’s chest and kicked him away, and blood splattered across the ground in a wide arc, painting the concrete red.

Jacob hit the ground with a meaty thud and didn’t rise again.

It was that moment that the vampire realised his terrible mistake. A horrified, shrieking scream tore through the air as Evie went away, swallowed up by something far worse than a mere Fledgling or her pet.

[]

_The world is bloody and red, and It sings with joy as the Cathayan’s screams are torn from his throat. Its claws rend his flesh, flaying the other monster with his own skin and strips of muscle, even as those bits begin to slough between Its fingers._

_The Cathayan fights back, his own inner Beast awakened, but his only thought is survival. Its purpose is so much greater. Revenge; an eye for an eye, a life for a life, the Cathayan would pay a steep price for his killing. He would die over and over again at Its hands, and he would know only a fraction of the horror that Its Vessel had long endured even before It had awakened._

_Blood, so much blood, it sings to It like a song so sweet, so tantalising, so entirely intoxicating that nothing matters except every drop that It can find._

_The essence of life is sweeter than any honey, and yet it is never enough. Oh what It would give for_ **_more…_ **

_And by the time It retreats, the sun is on the verge of dawning. The Vessel need not remember. No, no. The Vessel must be protected now. It had protected the Vessel, and It would do so from whatever might threaten Them._

_Yes, yes. It would protect Its Vessel so they would both survive…_

[]

When Evie awoke the following evening, she was curled up under the office desk. Her brow furrowed as confusion set in and she hit her head when she sat up too quickly. 

Her everything hurt. Outside a siren wailed as a police car drove by, and she had to clasp her hands over her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut. The noise hurt her head.

She wondered, briefly, how she had gotten here, or where here even was. She sat for a few minutes, trying once again to piece together her memory. She had been hunting down a vampire… And she had found him. Then it was all blank. What had happened?

Her nose twitched as if in sync with the Beast inside of her and she looked down at herself; she then had to abruptly fight the urge to throw up.

Blood. A lot of it. And not all of it her own. It covered her from head to toe, soaking her top, her trousers, her hair… It was everywhere.

Still suppressing the overwhelming urge to throw up, Evie crawled out of her hiding place, trembling in every limb as she stumbled out of the office. The trail led out from the door to the warehouse, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to stay away. But she had to know, had to see for herself what had happened… What she had done.

And yet when her fingers wrapped around the door knob, she jerked her hand away as if it was red hot. Her instincts were too overwhelming. Whatever was beyond that door wasn’t anything she wanted to see. Something _horrible_ was waiting behind that door, and without a second thought, she turned on her heel and fled into the street. She didn’t stop until she was curled up under her bed sheets.

She had a horrible feeling that she was forgetting more than just what had happened in her fight with the other vampire. Like something significant was missing. 

The bed felt too empty that night, but what she couldn’t discern was _why_. She only got the sinking feeling that she had endured some horrible loss… A loss she would never quite recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY-  
> I knew it was a plothole in Blood and Trust that had to be fixed, but I wanted to go a 'she gives him to someone else' route before that damn Cathayan went and said 'I'LL FIX IT FOR YOU' asdfghjkl; I am so sorry
> 
> This chapter is the reason I'm doing two updates this week because I'd feel bad leaving you all on this note :(


	5. The Ocean House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to continue delaying, Evie sets out to meet with Therese Voerman. Turns out this'll be a night to remember.

It took three nights for Evie to muster up the nerve to leave her apartment, still unsure of what weighed on her so terribly. Every night she woke up feeling sick and empty, even though she’d felt no urge to feed whatsoever. She would spend hours sitting on the bed, or in the shower with the cold water running over her as she swung wildly back and forth between trying to remember and resolving to forget.

It was the buzzing of her phone that stirred her back into action. She flipped it open to find a single message from-

“Lacroix,” she muttered grumpily. “Probably wondering when the fuck this fucking warehouse is going to be dealt with.”

 **_< Subject> _ ** _Nicely Done_ **_  
_** **_< From> _ ** _Lacroix_

_Your assistance was much appreciated in regards to the werewolf blood. Please find your payment in the mailbox, if you haven't already done so. – SL_

She blinked. Right. The werewolf blood. She had completely forgotten about it after… whatever had happened.

Heaving a sigh she set down the phone and slowly began to braid her hair. 

It was only eleven o’clock. There was time to get things done, and not only was Knox probably waiting to hear if his ‘stalker’ problem was taken care of, she would finally have to meet with Therese Voerman. It wasn’t like she could put it off any longer, not without drawing attention to her lack of effort.

And if she was lucky, Knox would have heard from Bertram by now and might be able to arrange a meeting for her, which would give her an out from meeting Therese.

Once her hair was braided, she pulled on her jeans and jacket, and began to lace her shoes. Once her hat was in place, she turned off the radio - some conspiracy theorist was jabbering away at Deb tonight - and finally began the descent down the stairs.

With only two days to go until Halloween, Santa Monica was getting into the spirit of things. Decorations were hung up in windows, including fake bats, spiders, and cobwebs, and there was black and orange bunting strung up above the door of the vacant coffee shop. 

It was strange knowing that just a week ago, she had only just become aware of the weird and frightening things that haunted the darkened alleys and strolled along the streets like the normal people who were blissfully unaware of the horrors that lurked among them. It was even harder to acknowledge that she was one of those horrors now.

It was weird trying to get used to the idea.

The Asylum was much the same as it had been the first time she had visited. Same thumping music and twisted aromas, same clientele. She even spied Knox hovering near the bar, but this time she was intercepted as she made to approach him.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Evie flinched as a tall blonde woman with mismatched eyes sauntered into her path. She wore a white shirt that was entirely too small and tied high to expose her midriff and a lot of her chest, and she wore a very short skirt, thigh high socks, and high heeled-ankle boots. Her face was heavily painted with a thick layer of white foundation, smeared mascara, and bright red lips. 

Her pigtails bobbed as she looked Evie up and down, and her grin spread wide, revealing a pair of fangs that glinted in the low light.

“Another scrumptious young plaything straight out of life and into my club? Mmm, you smell new little girl, like fabric softener dew on freshly mowed astroturf. Oh, I’m not frightening you, am I, duckling?”

“Uh… Who… are you?” Evie asked hesitantly. 

She had a suspicion - Mercurio had filled her in a little more on Santa Monica’s players - but it’d be nice to know for certain.

The woman’s lips curled into a seductive smile, and Evie couldn’t help but pray that Knox - or _anyone_ \- would interrupt.

“I’m the finger down your spine when all the lights are out. I’m the name on all the men’s room walls. When I pout, the whole world tries to make me smile. And everyone always wants to know: who. Is. That. Girl?”

She paused, clearly waiting for some kind of response from Evie who couldn’t help feeling a little jittery.

“Got a name for me to remember?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice even.

“I. Am. Jeanette!” Her head wiggled which made her pigtails bounce. “And this bit of chaos crammed into a certifiable giggle is my club! Oh, I’d just love to give you funny feelings all night, sweetheart, but I really must trouble with some business. We’ll reunite sweet and soon, I promise.”

And with a parting wave and wiggle of her fingers, Jeanette sauntered away into the crowd.

Evie shook her head. Mercurio hadn’t been exaggerating when he described Jeanette, and yet she still hadn’t quite felt prepared for the distinct discomfort that she knew was likely to accompany that meeting. She’d never been particularly comfortable with people flirting with her and Jeanette being not only older but very forward was… It made her skin crawl really.

Still she had other things to be doing, such as informing Knox that his stalker had been taken care of. So she made her way over, dodging between patrons. Knox grinned in relief at the sight of her.

“Yo girl, do that thing yet?”

“I did it,” she said, even though she wasn’t entirely certain _how_ she had done it or how she was so certain that she had.

“Oh thank god!” Knox slumped against the bar and rubbed his forehead. “Oh man yes! That guy was hounding me. Look, I still haven’t heard anything from Bertram, sorry. I’ll still let him know, but for now… I’ve got no way to repay you.”

The twist of his lips and the glimmer in his eyes seemed sincere enough. Still it was disappointing.

“I guess I’m talking to Therese then,” she sighed. “See you around Knox.”

She approached the bar, doing her best to look casual and hope that the bartender _didn’t_ ask for an ID. That was the exact kind of thing that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. He did give her a vaguely suspicious look but didn’t remark on it immediately.

“What can I get ya, beautiful?” he asked, and Evie had to ignore the uncomfortable twist in her gut.

“I’m here to speak with Therese.”

The suspicion in his beady eyes grew and the tattoos covering his face wrinkled as he frowned at her. He rested an arm on the bar.

“She’s upstairs. She said she had business to attend to but I can hear her and Jeanette bickering from here. Why do you need to see her?”

“Interview. Apparently she liked my resume.”

He raised a brow.

“Really? Huh. Guess we could stand to have an extra pair of hands ‘round here. I’ll call the elevator. Head on up.”

Trying not to look too relieved, Evie excused herself from the bar and slipped back through the crowd towards the elevator on the far side of the room, tucked under the stairs and just out of the main view of the dance floor. She pressed the button and with a ding, the grill and doors slid open, revealing green leather walls and smooth wooden floors.

There was a panel with three buttons. One for the ground floor, one for the basement, and upstairs. The button for the first floor - as she still insisted on calling it - stuck a little, as if it had been violently jabbed one time too many, and the elevator rumbled upwards.

It emerged into a small landing with a mirror standing opposite the elevator doors, a decorative table with a copy of the LA Sun sitting on top of it, and a single door. 

Evie went to knock before she was cut off by a familiar voice on the other side.

“ _Your_ city? Last time I checked it was called Santa Monica, not Stuck Up Bitch.”

“So vulgar! I can’t even look at you sometimes!”

“Oh Therese, you really do paint a flattering portrait of me with your turn-of-the-century barbs. I always assumed you could do nothing but look down on me-”

“Just the sight of you! The sight of that twisted, tainted pout concealing that dirty, diseased mind! Sin! You have no shame!”

There was a laugh - presumably Jeanette’s.

“Let she who is without sin cast the fierce tone.”

“Go ahead and mock me! You pull your pranks, make fun of my ways. It suits you. You’re just one big _joke_.”

“Don’t you call me that!”

“Should I start calling a duck a pig as well?”

“I’m your sister! How can you treat me like this?!”

There was the muffled clicking of heels across the floor and the slamming of a door that made Evie wince. She was more than familiar with that sound.

“That’s it Jeanette; run away from the truth. I’ll take care of everything, as always.”

Evie hovered outside the door a moment as she debated between proceeding as planned or turning tail and hoping that Knox could find Tung and arrange a meet, before she finally swallowed down on the jumbled knot of nerves in her stomach. 

She’d made it this far; might as well go all in.

She knocked.

“Yes? What is it?” a voice snapped irritably from inside and Evie gulped before pushing the door open.

The office had the same hardwood floors and dark red walls as the entrance hall, but it was far more decorative. A pair of statues flanked the wall to Evie’s left, tall, faceless, and imposing. There was a desk with a computer sat on it, and a divider between it and heart-shaped, queen-sized bed. And standing before the divider was a woman who could only be Therese.

She was definitely Jeanette’s twin. Hell, she could easily be Jeanette if Jeanette wore a pressed brown suit jacket, skirt, smart heels and glasses. She also wore her hair in a bun, and she wore dark lipstick in contrast to Jeanette’s bright red. But unlike Jeanette, she didn’t have heterochromia - her eyes were both a steely grey, whereas one of Jeanette’s had been a green-hazel colour.

In an instant, the irritated scowl dropped from Therese’s face and a pleasant - albeit formal and business-like - smile took its place as she clasped her hands together.

“Ah please, come in. I apologise if my sister’s crassness made you uncomfortable - he’s unabashedly scandalous - but in the club business, I suppose that kind of personality is a necessary evil.”

Evie didn’t let herself relax. Even if she had wanted to, an old instinct told her to remain on guard. Just moments ago, Therese had been viciously mocking her sister to her face, and now took no issue in doing so behind her back to a stranger.

“I survived,” she said vaguely. “I take it you’re Therese?”

“Therese Voerman, yes. I’m the proprietor of this club, and the only person in the city whose good side it’s in your best interests to stay on,” she explained primly. “What brings you to Santa Monica?”

“I need you to call off the feud with Bertram Tung,” Evie said as calmly and confidently as she could manage. “I need his help with-”

“Tung’s exile is self-imposed, I assure you,” Therese cut over. “But then, what reason would I have not to hate that loathsome Nosferatu scoundrel.” She turned her head slightly and scowled down her nose, lip curling to reveal pointed fangs. “Bloody Nosferatu. They’re so… _unclean_.”

Evie frowned. Knox had called Tung a Nosferatu before but she didn’t know what that meant. She supposed it was the name of his clan?

“Why do you hate Tung so much?” she asked, turning her thoughts back to the topic at hand.

“He meddles in my affairs. He’s a bad influence on my sister, and she on him. If you were in my place, would you allow him to compromise your authority? You most certainly would not. I’d quite like it if I never had to hear that name again.

“So let him think that I mean to kill him. That way, I don’t have to worry about him sabotaging everything. Do you realise how his sabotage makes me look to the Camarilla?”

Therese’s fingers tightened over themselves and there was a cold disdain simmering in her eyes. It might not have been aimed at Evie, but it didn’t keep the anxiety from twisting her guts into knots.

“Is there anything I can do to persuade you to call off the feud? I really need to see Tung, and it won’t happen while you’re angry with him.”

The disdain transformed into calculating interest as Theresa raised a brow, all while regarding Evie, as if trying to get her measure, figuring out how to best utilise her… That or she was already plotting her murder, that was completely plausible too.

But then Therese seemed to have reached a decision as her vice grip on her hands finally eased somewhat.

“Tung and his co-conspirator’s actions ruined my chances at a partnership in a crucial piece of property. I do have several other ventures, and one in particular has been, to say the least, an ordeal.

“I’d be willing to put the word out that my grievances with Tung have been swept under the rug, but in return, you’ll have to remove a particularly burdensome spirit from a property I’m looking to invest in.”

“A spirit?” Evie asked, head tilting to one side. “You mean like a ghost?”

Therese rolled her eyes.

“I forgot. You’re still new to this. Allow me to break you in; yes ghosts exist. Werewolves, mummies, and I’d expect a whole lot of other things I’ve never seen share the night with us,” she explained briskly.

Right… Now that she thought about it, it seemed obvious. If vampires were real, what was stopping every other horror movie monster from being real?

“Okay, I’m in. How do I get rid of a ghost?”

That earned her an approving smile, which was reassuring for the moment.

“Rumour is that a personal item of a ghost’s can be used to draw it out or excise it from its haunt. While I don’t put a lot of stock in hearsay, it’s my last option. So I want you to go to the Ocean House hotel, find a personal item of the spirit’s, and bring it back.”

“And you promise you’ll call off the feud?”

“Oh I fully intend to do so. You’ll find that dealing with me on the whole is appreciably more predictable than dealing with some of the megalomaniacs that are my peers.” She inclined her head slightly. “So long as our business doesn’t go sour, my word is gold.”

“I appreciate it Miss Voerman,” Evie said, bowing her head respectfully. “I’ll be back as soon as it’s done.”

“Ah wait. Before I forget.” 

Therese strode over to her desk and reached into one of the drawers. She pulled out a key with an old leather tag and held it out between her thumb and forefinger as she deposited into Evie’s hand.

“The only way to reach the Ocean House this time of night is through a tunnel in the sewers. You’ll need the key to open the gate to that tunnel,” she explained.

Evie blinked as she processed that.

The _sewers_? _Really_?!

But she would be much better off not saying anything of the sort to Therese, and she wrestled to keep the revulsion from showing on her face. Instead she pocketed the key and nodded.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll get right on it.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got situations to set straight.”

Therese’s eyes flickered over to the bathroom door on the far side of the room, and Evie decided against questioning. Better to get this over with quickly.

But the sewers… Ugh, she was going to need new clothes before the night was out.

[]

The map of the sewers was a surprise, but it was the welcome kind. Mostly because without it, Evie would have been at a complete loss as to where to go without it, and the last thing she needed was to end up sleeping the day away down there.

The sewage reached just below her knees, and the stink was near-nauseating. Rats scurried around on the concrete and swam in the water, and they weren’t the slightest bit troubled by her presence among them. 

She traced a finger over the map; specifically the portion depicting the tunnel to her right.

“So I need to go down there, then turn left,” she murmured to herself. “And then I’ll need to unlock the gate like Therese said.”

It seemed simple enough, but something in the back of her mind nagged at her.

If Therese was having this much trouble with the ghost, then surely getting rid of it wasn’t as simple and straightforward as Evie was hoping. If anything she felt like she was in some kind of horror movie; the brash teenager enters the haunted hotel and the ghost haunts the shit out of her. Surely that premise had been done to death by now.

But then, her whole life had become some sort of weird horror movie, hadn’t it?

So she trudged through the sewer, keeping her head turned to the left and her ears open. Since Therese had been so casual in directing her to the sewers, she had to assume that it was normal for vampires to make use of them. And that meant assuming that she wasn’t alone.

A left turn and a long walk later led Evie to the gate Therese had described, and beyond that was a ladder leading up. A long way up.

The gate squealed on rusted hinges as Evie pushed it open and the _clang_ of it shutting echoed off of the walls ominously. She checked her watch. It had just gone midnight. She had a few hours to search the hotel and make it back to the Asylum. 

Best she make the most of what time she had, she decided, and she began the upward climb.

When she emerged it was at the very edge of the construction site, at the centre of which the Ocean House stood. It was a grand old building that towered over the landscape, and yet even from here, she could see where portions of the uppermost floors had been left as blackened, burnt-out shells.

She knew only a little about the Ocean House from what Rowan had told her; apparently back in the 50s, when the hotel first opened, some nutcase had murdered several people before setting the place on fire and committing suicide. The hotel, barely open a week, was swiftly abandoned and people swore up and down that the place was haunted.

Before she’d have laughed at the idea. Now here she was, trying to make the place less-haunted so she could find Tung who would help her to blow up a warehouse that Lacroix wanted gone.

“Parry, dodge, and spin, eh Jack?” she muttered to herself as she began to cross the site. 

Mounds of gravel had piled up on either side of the drive leading up to the hotel steps, and from the top of one she surveyed the area.

Abandoned machinery sat silent and unmoving, and a shack had been erected outside the hotel; it was undoubtedly where the workers co-ordinated the construction work from. There were vans and trucks littered about the place, fork-lifts, even a crane. And yet all of it had clearly been left unattended for days, maybe longer.  
Street lamps lined the drive, and the lights on the front of the hotel had been left on, throwing a bright orange glow over the walls. The light caught on the innumerable windows, making it impossible to catch a glance of what might be inside.

Clearly Therese had big plans for the place. Plans that the ghost clearly didn’t agree with.

She skidded down the gravel mound and crossed the site, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of danger, even though she wasn’t completely certain _what_ might count as danger so far as a ghost might be concerned.

At one point she froze as a small chittering chirp cut over the silence and she looked up only to see a bat hanging over her head from one of the street lamps. She frowned at the little creature and it stared back with beady black eyes. Much like the wolf, there was intelligence in its gaze, like it was sizing her up for some reason.

She’d never seen a bat in person before, so it was hard to tell if this was normal or if she ought to be suspicious. Then the bat chirped again, almost like it was laughing at her.

“Okay, very funny,” she snorted. “Trying to scare me, huh?”

Another chirp. Either this bat thought it was a comedian or there were things that she just didn’t know about them.

She chewed the inside of her lip. She could vaguely recall making use of one of her vampire powers before… On a dog, she thought. It calmed the creature right down, let her pet it, and-!

She clutched her head, gasping, as a sharp bolt of pain split her head right down the middle. The Beast snarled, ears flattened against its head, and she could practically _hear_ it urging her to let it take over. Instead she forced it into heel and waited for the pain to pass. She sat herself on the ground to keep herself from falling over and pressed her forehead into the heel of her palm.

By the time she could look up without the soft glow of the street lamp hurting her head, the bat was gone.

“Well that sucks,” she muttered, staring back at the ground. Moss was growing between the bricks of the drive and she picked at it absent-mindedly for a minute.

She wasn’t sure what had just happened, only that trying to remember that night at the beach house made her head hurt like crazy. 

It wasn’t all that unusual really. Evie had always suffered from gaps in her memory, and she’d always assumed it was normal until she mentioned it to Rowan who assured her that it was very much _not_ normal to suffer blank spots and shooting pains when trying to recall specific memories, and that it was more likely that something she’d seen or experienced was so horrible that her mind was repressing the memory to protect her.

Yet she could only recall her trip to the beach house being a complete success. She’d gotten the astrolite and Mercurio’s money, had discovered one of her powers, and had managed to escape without Dennis and his friends realising she had even been there. 

What could have possibly happened to make her need to forget?

After a quick glance at her watch, which told her that it was getting towards twenty past twelve, she finally got to her feet. There was work to do.

She took the steps up to the front doors two at a time, and the moment she reached the top, one of the lamps flanking the doors suddenly flickered on before promptly exploding in a shower of glass. She flinched, narrowly avoiding a large chunk that would have otherwise sliced her nose open.

“Seriously? I’ve not been here two seconds, you dick,” she snapped.

There was no reply, so Evie tested the handle. Locked. Obviously. Therese could give her a sewer key, but not a key to the hotel.

Fortunately, Evie had brought her lockpick with her and in just a few moments, she had the door open. As it so happened, however, her luck was about to plummet in mere moments.

The inside was pitch black, and even her eyes struggled to adjust to the unnatural darkness. 

It seemed that the fire hadn’t reached the lobby at all; the pillars holding up the balconies on either side of the room were still pristine white with gold trim and a pair of stairs curving up to meet at the landing. Furniture was still arranged between them - sofas, a coffee table, and an ornate grandfather clock - and there was an intricately stitched Persian rug covering the floor.

Once it would have been beautiful, but now… Now everything was covered in ash and a thick coat of dust. The front desk was covered in spider webs that stretched from the desk itself up to the bottom of the balcony that it was situated beneath. There was an eerie creaking in the distance, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

There was a metallic rumble to her right, and she flinched, wishing she had a torch or something to try and break up the darkness. Then she felt foolish. A bin was rolling across the floor, as if someone had knocked it down and given it a push.

“Alright, I get it. You don’t like me. Well guess what, Ghostie, I don’t like you either. But I can’t leave until I have something of your’s, so if you could just let-”

**_MOVE!_ **

She barely leapt out of the way in time as the chandelier’s cable suddenly snapped and it fell to the ground with an almighty crash, accompanied by bits of plaster and the tinkle of shattering glass. Shards hit her in the face, but didn’t have quite enough momentum, and so they bounced off harmlessly onto the ground.

For several long seconds, Evie sat on the ground, her jaw hanging open as she tried to process what had just happened. There was no way that that was an accident, surely?!

“Did you just-”

**_ROLL!_ **

Again she listened without question and rolled out of the way as a vase suddenly flung itself off of an end table with every intention of hitting her in the head.

‘No wonder this place is giving Therese trouble!’ she thought to herself as the vase exploded on the ground where she’d been sitting just a moment ago.

“Real fucking mature, Ghostie. Go suck your stupid ghost dick!” she swore, scrabbling to her feet.

The ghost was aggressive, which would make searching the place hard enough, but she had no idea what she was even supposed to be looking for in the first place. She needed to find something that belonged to this arsehole in life if Therese was going to call off the feud, but to do that, she needed to know who they were and what they might be attached to.

She suddenly got the sense that maybe she wasn’t _supposed_ to succeed.

“Well fuck it, I’m committed now,” she decided.

The first place to look was probably the front desk. She needed an idea of who had been staying at the hotel before it was abandoned, and considering that it had only been open a week, it shouldn’t have been too hard.

Except it turned out that a lot of people had been staying in the hotel that week. It had been the grand opening and all kinds of people had booked rooms, leaving the hotel fit to bursting and leaving the books filled with a good few hundred names in total.

Growing frustrated, Evie decided to search elsewhere and hope that she would come across something that would point her in the right direction. That seemed to be how things worked out for her these days anyway. The next best place to start looking would be the guest rooms.

Another vase flung itself at her and she ducked just in time for it to explode against the pillar behind her.

Rolling her eyes, Evie turned to climb the stairs leading to the upper level. There were rows of doors along both balconies, so they would be a good place to start-

No sooner than she’d thought it, the steps beneath her feet crunched and abruptly gave way. Even as her instincts screamed at her to jump, she only succeeded in catching the edge of the now-gaping hole which promptly splintered and collapsed beneath her weight, and she was sent crashing to the ground below.

Had she been human, it would have hurt a lot more. The impact might have broken bones, and she’d have definitely been impaled by some of the broken wood steps. 

As a vampire, she’d only had the wind knocked out of her and a few splinters. 

Groaning, she righted herself and shook her head, trying to keep the room from spinning, before she looked around and tried to figure out where it was she had ended up.

In the dark it was almost impossible to see, but she could feel the cold concrete beneath her and make out some large pipes on the wall in front of her. She was in the basement then. She got to her feet gingerly just as slow, methodical footsteps echoed off the walls eerily. Scowling, she brushed herself off.

“Okay, job or not, I am getting rid of this arsehole,” she said to no one in particular as she tried to get her bearings.

It wasn’t easy at first, given how dark it was. There was nothing natural about it in the slightest; rather it was like someone had draped a veil over her eyes, and while she could see through it, it was still hard to make out what was around her.

“I seriously wish I had a torch- Wait!” 

She rooted through her back and, sure enough, she found her phone. A few button pushes later and its torch flickered to life. The beam of light cut through the darkness like a knife, and while it wasn’t a perfect solution to the problem, it would make navigating the hotel much easier.

And after a brief moment of contemplation, Evie decided that being in the basement wasn’t all that bad a thing. As far as she could tell, the fire hadn’t managed to reach this area at all, and if the generator was still operational, she could get the power back on. That meant lights and elevators at least. She just had to figure out where to find it.

Feeling bolstered from having something that resembled a plan, Evie began to follow the pipes that lined the ceiling.

For a while it felt like she was navigating a maze of criss-crossing passages with the occasional laundry or storage room sprouting up every now and then, and after a while Evie began to suspect that she was walking in circles, past the same rooms over and over again. It was only confirmed when she found herself back at the beginning, despite being certain she hadn’t taken the same turn more than once. She was forced to resume her search, trying to build a mental map of the basement only to arrive back at the same place.

Then, on her third go around, it happened. So quickly that it would be possible to wave it off as her mind playing tricks on her.

As Evie reached the same intersection of corridors for the third time - she could see the splintered remains of the stairs lying on the floor at the end of the hall in front of her - a child came running into view.

At a brief glimpse he couldn’t be any older than six or seven, and was ghostly white. He whimpered like a wounded animal, and looked over his shoulder as he ran, stumbling as he fled from whoever was chasing him.

Evie sprinted forwards and skidded to a stop at the centre of the intersection but found no sign of the child or his pursuer. The corridors were empty of anyone save for herself.

Still she wasn’t willing to write it off as nothing. That ghost boy had been running from someone, and she was willing to bet that that someone was the aggressive ghost that was giving Therese problems.

So now Evie had a choice to make: continue wandering aimlessly as she had been doing for a while now and hope that something changed, or follow the ghost boy and hoped that he led her to where she needed to go.

She chose to follow.

The corridor was surprisingly long, and it led to a dead end, save only a single door. Frowning, Evie shouldered it open while bracing herself for _something_ to come flying at her head. Instead she was met only with silence, so she cautiously moved into the room.

The second she was clear of the door, it slammed shut behind her and the lock clicked. 

Evie spun on the spot and grabbed the handle, trying to yank it open, but the lock refused to give. And then heavy footsteps began to approach from the other side, slow, methodical, and practically filled with their owner’s anticipation. And despite having felt relatively confident before about facing a ghost, the sound filled Evie with dread.

She shone her light around the room, desperate to find a way out. There were no other doors, however, and her beam of light fell briefly on an old, abandoned lighter that sat on top of a storage crate. 

The footsteps drew closer and closer, and there was a deep, dark, rumbling chuckle that accompanied them. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the sound.

Then she spotted it. A hole at the bottom of the wall that someone had attempted to brick over with little success. Dropping onto her side, Evie kicked the bricks in and crawled through to the other side just as the door behind her was cleaved open. The screech of an axe cleaving through metal rang in her ears and it made her poor dead heart hammer in her chest. 

A brief glance back showed only a pair of boots standing on the other side of the hole she had left behind her, and she scrambled away. Her back hit a toppled shelving unit and she paused, taking a moment to breathe when she realised that the boots had vanished once more.

“Well, that was pointless,” she grumbled once she calmed herself.

She got back to her feet and brushed the brick dust off of her clothes. So much for a useful lead.

She took up her phone and once again tried to figure out where she had ended up.

Going from the shelves, it could only be a storage room. Just like the other one she had just escaped, except this one seemed to lack any ghostly presence for the moment. And lying face down on top of the fallen shelving unit was a singed old newspaper.

Curious, Evie picked it up.

**_HOTEL HELL!_ **

**_Child’s Severed Head Found in Hotel Laundry Room!_ **

Evie’s stomach plummeted and did a flip as it went down, and she had to fight the urge to vomit. She’d heard of the murders and had suspected that the ghost boy had to be involved somehow, but _decapitating a kid_ -!

She put the newspaper back down - or rather she dropped it - and tried to get her trembling under control as she approached the door that would lead her out of the storage room. Was there a reason she’d needed to see that? Was there something to find in the laundry room?

The door opened easily enough and she found herself back where she had started, splintered wooden boards resting at her feet.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Evie knew she had to make a choice. Keep trying to find a generator, or search the laundry room.

Much as she hated to admit it, the laundry room was probably her best bet. Or it was a trap, one or the other.

“Well, I’ve not got anything else to lose,” she sighed, and so she set off once again.

This time, however, she turned off into the first laundry room she came across. It was old and thick with dust and cobwebs, and filled with washing machines and carts of abandoned linens. 

The moment Evie crossed the threshold, a child whimpered. She froze on the spot, her insides going completely cold. Nothing moved and no one appeared, but as she moved further into the room, she heard a tiny gasp of fear.

“Hello?”

“ _...please don’t tell him where I am, I was just-!”_

The near silence was broken by those heavy, methodical footsteps and the whimpering whispers fell silent. A chill filled the air and the torch on Evie’s phone began to flicker, almost like the darkness was compounding itself in this one room.

And then a menacing voice hissed, “ _there you are, little Ed_...”

The shrill scream of a terrified little boy filled the air, echoing off the walls and piercing Evie’s ears. Her phone fell to the floor with a crack as she clamped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the dying screams of a terrified child as he was brutally decapitated.  
And somewhere, mingling with the child’s screams, she could hear her brother’s screams too, both voices pleading for a mercy that would never come.

Her head felt like it was going to split in two, and it was only when the room fell completely silent did she realise that she was lying on the floor again, and her phone was lying on the ground in front of her.

She scrambled to pick it up and to her relief, it hadn’t broken when she dropped it. The chill had departed, and the darkness seemed to lessen a little. Still she couldn’t help but jump out of her skin at the sight of the little ghost boy, his head balanced precariously on his shoulders as he pointed at one of the washing machines.

“ _You need it_ ,” he whispered. “ _Or you’ll be stuck down here like me_.”

She hesitated a moment.

“...I… I’m here to help,” she whispered back. “I’m looking for something to free the spirits here. Do you know anything that could help me do that?”

He just kept pointing at the washing machine. 

Evie tentatively made her way over, unable to look away from the ghost boy’s dead, vacant eyes as he watched her. Once she was level with him, she opened the machine door.

Fortunately, someone had removed his head from inside, and instead there was a key labelled ‘Boiler Room’. The ghost boy stared up at her with scared, tired eyes.

“ _Find the red light. That’s where you need to go. Please… I want him to go away._ ”

Evie bit her lip and then nodded at the ghost.

“I’ll make him go away.”

[]

The ghost boy - Ed - had been right. Without the boiler room key, she’d have been stuck wandering that endlessly looping basement forever. Instead she was now riding the dumbwaiter down from the bar and into the kitchen - or at least she thought she was headed to the kitchen. Why else would the bar have a dumbwaiter?

She’d not encountered any new ghosts yet, save for the aggressive arsehole that she suspected could only be the Ocean House Killer himself. The ghost she needed to get rid of, if not for Therese then for the other ghosts who had the misfortune of being stuck here with him.

Sure enough, when the dumbwaiter rumbled to a stop, it had arrived at the kitchen. And there was another ghost waiting for her, this time a little girl who was, horrifyingly enough, holding her severed arm in place at the elbow.

“ _You’re here to get rid of him?_ ” she asked in a tiny, tired voice.

“I am,” Evie replied thickly.

The ghost girl seemed to brighten a little.

“ _That’s nice of you. Mommy didn’t think anyone would come to help us. I’m glad you’re here._ ” She then gestured as best she could to the kitchen counter. “ _Mommy’s diary is here. She says that it could help you get rid of Daddy_.”

She’d had a sneaking suspicion that that was the case. She decided against dwelling on it though, and instead picked up the diary. It was charred and the formerly red binding flaked away under her fingers.

She flipped through the pages, trying to find some sort of clue she could make use of.

 **_05/31/1958 –_ ** _The first two days have been almost perfect, except that Ed can't seem to stop asking about the locket I received from my mother. He seems to think it was sent to me by some admirer. Ed can be sweet, but sometimes his jealousy can get the better of him. Hopefully he'll feel better tomorrow._

 **_06/04/1958 –_ ** _We only have two days left, and thank God we're finally going home. Ed won't speak to me or the children, and I've found him more than once in the bathroom holding the locket and staring at it. I'm afraid he's suffered some sort of breakdown. I've told him we can go home, but he just shakes his head. He won't look at me. I just want to go home._

 **_06/05/1958 –_ ** _Ed left early this morning, and I haven't seen him since. If I haven't seen him in another hour, I'm going to call the hotel manager. Against my better wishes, Ed Jr. went to look for him downstairs in the basement. I'm going to send Tiffany down to fetch him, if_

The entry cut off, and then there was only hastily scrawled notes that were smudged by a trembling hand.

_oh my god, Ed covered in blood_

_coming to kill me_

_locked myself in the bathroom_

_he's gone crazy_

_he keeps shouting we'll be together forever and he'll never let me go_

_god please help_

There were no more entries after that and Evie had to swallow down the sick feeling bubbling at the back of her throat. 

The Ocean House Killer had murdered his entire family… over a locket, of all things. A locket he was convinced came from some secret lover of his wife’s despite her assurance that it was a gift from her mother. He’d butchered his children and his wife because he was _jealous_?!

“What kind of fucked up arsehole does this?!” she snarled under her breath, not noticing the gas of the nearby stove sputtering to life, with little blue flames dancing alluringly in the dark.

She shoved the diary into her bag and looked towards the little ghost girl, Tiffany, who looked back at her sadly.

“I… I’m so sorry,” was all she could say, as all other words failed her. 

Another stove flickered to life.

“ _Don’t be. You weren’t there. You couldn’t have stopped him-_ ” She froze and looked around fearfully. “ _Oh no… No, no, no, he’s coming!_ ”

As the third stove came to life, the cold began to encroach and Evie tensed up as she finally spotted the flames.

“ _You need to run away! He’s coming!_ ”

She didn’t want to run. She wanted to give this arsehole of a father what he had coming, but unfortunately beating the shit out of a ghost with his own spine wasn’t really an option, so she did as Tiffany said.

She jogged towards the nearest door and tugged, but it was firmly locked.

“ _Try the other one!_ ”

She did as she was told, but still the door refused to give. She was trapped. And as if to mock her, a single frying pan flopped pathetically onto the floor.

“Is that supposed to scare me? Are you even trying? Because you know what, I’ve seen way worse things than you in my entire life, let alone the last week!” Evie snapped, not noticing as Tiffany fled through a nearby wall. “You know why? Because you’re a pathetic loser and you never deserved any of them in the first place!”

That did it. 

The chill suddenly turned red hot, and the kitchen responded in turn. The flames erupted into billowing columns and pots and pans began to fly left and right with every ounce of rage the ghost could summon.  
Knives threw themselves at Evie, forcing her to dodge and roll out of the way, only for drawers to slam open as she tried to take cover. Ovens snapped open and closed, and the hose at the sink began to spray wildly as the room rapidly devolved into a fury-driven chaos.

As another pot narrowly missed her head, Evie searched desperately for a way out. She crawled along the floor, trying her best to avoid being hit in the head by a flying saucepan, before she spotted her.

A ghostly woman with long black hair, a white dress, and a bloodied front. She was pointing at the first door Evie had originally tried to open. And as she did so, two of the pots diverged their course and smashed into it so hard that they dented its surface.

Realising what the ghostly woman was doing, Evie broke into a sprint, running as fast and as hard as she could before shoulder ramming into the door with her whole weight behind her.

The door crunched and gave way, and Evie’s momentum threw her forwards into the room beyond. A shelving unit clattered and fell across the doorway, preventing anything from the kitchen from following her through.

Sore from the impact, Evie tottered to her feet and rubbed her neck.

“Okay so maybe _don’t_ provoke the murderous ghost…” she mumbled. “I’ll remember that…”

She quickly gathered her bearings. She was, once again, in a storage room with only one door - the one leading into the kitchen which the ghost was still busy wrecking - and a grate covering a vent.

The grate gave out easy enough and soon enough, Evie was crawling her way through the vent. Honestly, she still thought this was something she’d only ever do in video games, yet here she was.

“ _Be careful..._ ” an unfamiliar voice whispered in her ear. Probably the ghost woman from the kitchen. The murderer’s wife.

“Thanks for the tip,” Evie grumbled. “Y’know, if this whole being-a-vampire thing gets anymore shit, then God might as well kill me now.”

By the end of this experience, maybe Evie would learn to keep her mouth shut, as the moment she dropped out of the vent there was a loud metallic squealing sound followed by an enormous, ground-rumbling tremor.  
She looked up and didn’t bother feeling her stomach dropping into the depths of hell, she just scrambled for safety as the elevator crashed to the ground, only narrowly avoiding the young vampire.

“I was being sarcastic!” she yelled, only to receive a menacing laugh in return. Shaking her head angrily, she started to climb the maintenance ladder. “Oh hardy-har-har. Look at me, I’m a lousy husband who got jealous over a necklace and murdered my entire family over it. I’m such a well-fucking-adjusted person!”

The elevator doors near the top of the building had been left open, though it was quite the jump. Evie held onto the ladder with one hand, fully aware that missing might not spell death for a vampire, but the landing would definitely hurt.

She leapt and the balls of her feet caught the ledge. She flung her arms out and caught the doorframe and hauled herself inside just as the doors slammed shut with a menacing thud.

“Right… so now where?” she murmured to herself. 

She was standing on the landing of one of the upper floors, and there were plenty of doors but there was no saying which would lead her to the pendent. She checked her watch. It was nearly three in the morning. Time was beginning to run out, and there was no way she was sleeping the day away in this hole.

When she looked up she saw a flash of a white dress with a bloody hem whipping around a corner. She gave chase, only to catch a violently thrown vase in the chest. Shards of ceramic flew up into her face and their sharp edges managed to curve a thin line at the corner of her eye.

Evie pushed down the urge to yelp and instead continued her pursuit of the ghost woman. Her children had helped her so far, why wouldn’t she?

They moved upwards through the hotel. Doors exploded outwards into pieces and lights shattered violently. Still the ghost woman kept running, always vanishing from view just as Evie caught sight of her again.

Eventually they reached the burned out floors of the hotel. Evie climbed up a blackened beam and trod carefully over charred carpet. The red hot anger from the kitchen chased at her heels, and ghostly flames erupted into life, rolling up the walls, seeping in through the cracks in the floorboards.

But Evie didn’t stop, she just kept running, even as the Ocean House Killer began to pull out all the stops. He had to know what she was trying to do now, and he was going to do whatever it took to stop her.

Pipes burst behind the panelled walls and gouts of searingly hot steam began to pour in between the seams. The ghost fire burned upwards through the gaps where the floorboards had fallen through, and the further she went, the worse things became.

She dodged and leapt and ran hard, determined to outpace the ghost. She was too close to walk away empty handed now.

And then she saw her. Drifting through a grime-covered door at the end of the hall. Evie put on an extra burst of speed as the heat of the ghost fire whispered at her back, and she burst in through the door…

Surprisingly enough, the room was beautiful. Plush cream carpets, walls painted a beautiful dark green, a king-sized bed in the centre of the room, and standing in the middle of the floor was the woman in the white dress.

She was still ghostly white, but her dress was no longer stained with blood and her long black hair was pinned into an elegant twist at the back of her head. She was smiling at Evie, her eyes watering with tears of relief.

“ _You. Oh you wonderful child,_ ” she sniffed. “ _You made it._ ”

She dabbed at her eyes, doing her best not to cry even though escape from decades of torment was finally in view.

“I’m just glad I’m able to help,” Evie said softly. “The locket will free you? All of you?”

The ghost woman nodded.

“ _I think it will. It binds us here, all of us. My love for my mother, my husband’s jealousy and bitterness… The fear of my family as it all came undone… If it hadn’t been for that locket_ …”

She turned her head away with a hand held to her chest.

“ _Oh Ed_ …”

“Don’t feel too badly for him,” Evie said teresely. “People don’t just change all at once like that. If he was capable of it then, he was capable of it before.”

But the ghost woman just offered a smile.

“ _Perhaps. But it’s hard to say what happens in a person’s mind sometimes… Maybe Ed was always like that, somewhere deep down. Or maybe something simply broke. I doubt even Ed knows the truth. And I don’t think it really matters anymore. We’re dead, after all. And I would very much like to leave this place. I just want to go home._ ”

Evie nodded and crossed the room as the ghost woman looked on.

It was lying inconspicuously on a table beside the bed. A golden locket with a red gem set into the front of the case, hanging from a fine golden chain. It was hard to believe that something so small could cause so much harm.

It felt warm beneath Evie’s fingers, and the moment she picked it up, the last little sanctuary the ghost had left melted away, leaving Evie standing in the burned out ruins of those last few days of happiness that those poor souls had known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Nightingale is finally getting onto the main story instead of messing around with side quests? Yep, things are starting to get moving; I'm actually pretty proud of my take on the Ocean House. I never actually found the mission all that creepy, so I took some liberties here and there.
> 
> Anyways, consider this update my apology for the last chapter. Jacob deserved better :(


	6. Two's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie retrieved the Ocean House locket for Therese, but things take a turn and matters become more complicated than ever.

_ “Hello Gomez, what's the latest conspiracy?” _

_ “Conspiracy? This goes beyond conspiracy, okay? There is no word for something as devious and secret you understand? People need to hear this, they need to know the real story!  _

_ “You've got our undivided attention.” _

_ “Alright, as we all know the Americans established a Moon base back in the late seventies, that's no secret. But what most people don't know is that they have been conducting a dig. Not for resources, but for artifacts. I see. Well, it's no coincidence that the Chinese are starting conducting space missions. You know why? I'll tell you why-” _

Evie switched off the radio and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t slept well that day. There had been flashes of… something. Memories maybe. Some she recalled quite clearly - the Ocean House and Gimble particularly - but the rest was a jumble that trying to recall was more futile than trying to hold water.

The locket was sitting on her desk, glinting innocently as lightning flashed outside despite its bloody history. Beside it was the diary she had recovered from the Ocean House which detailed how the ghosts had come to haunt the place in the first place. With any luck, it would help Therese in her efforts to exorcise the place.

Speaking of which, it was time to get ready to head out for the night. Hopefully she’d get to speak with Tung and deal with the warehouse, and her deal with Lacroix would be settled by sunrise. Then…

Well, she didn’t know what happened next. She hadn’t really had time to think about it.

She sunk onto her bed, contemplating what the hell she was actually going to do once she was done with this task. 

Maybe she would go and see Sam. Explain everything that had happened since she had disappeared, and then leave town. Put as much distance between herself and Lacroix as she could. Maybe drift around a bit, see if she could maybe find Lee and his lot again. That could be fun, especially seeing how her vampire powers might be able to help when they found themselves on the wrong side of the law again.

Yeah… that would be nice.

She heaved a sigh. First things first, she needed to report back to Therese. She’d been too tired to do it last night, with dawn on the approach by the time she’d gotten back into Santa Monica proper.

So she pulled on her shoes, hat and jacket, shouldered her bag which now contained the locket and diary, and headed out once more into the night.

It was chucking it down with rain tonight, with thunder rumbling in the distance and lightning striking every now and then. Therefore very few people chose to linger on the streets, and those who did were sheltering under umbrellas, their jackets, or the ever popular newspaper over the head bit.

Evie chose to simply run for it and sprinted across the street into the cover of the clinic before heading down the alley that led around to the Asylum. As she rounded the corner however, she nearly crashed head first into someone. She barely skidded to a stop in time just as the man’s head cracked around to look at her with a raised brow.

She went to say ‘sorry’, but before she could even open her mouth, he raised a hand and vanished into a cloud of black mist and was gone.

She stood there, open mouthed and unsure of what to think, let alone say. Was he a vampire? Or some other kind of creature, like Therese and Knox had talked about?

Thunder rolled overhead and a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, rousing her to her senses. Nevermind mysterious creatures of the night, it was still pouring down with rain and she was standing there getting soaked!

Shaking off the encounter, Evie finished her sprint around the corner and in through the Asylum’s doors. She paused to shake off the worst of the water, and took a moment to be thankful that she was no longer bothered by the cold, before heading into the club.

No one paid her much mind as she beelined for the elevator, and she bounced on the balls of her feet almost energetically as it rumbled up towards Therese’s office. Soon she’d know where Tung was and she’d be able to get on with her mission, and once that was finished, she’d finally be free to choose what to do with this strange new life of her’s.

Unfortunately, as Evie would soon learn, nothing was ever that simple.

When she reached the office, Evie didn’t think to knock and instead pushed the door open, half-expecting Therese to be at her desk. Instead she found herself being stared at in surprise - and then amusement - but none other than Jeanette, who was perched on the heart-shaped bed with one leg folded over the other.

“Not even a knock?” she giggled. “I could have been undressing. And who knows what I’d have to do to you then.”

That acute sense of discomfort crawled its way up Evie’s spine again, reminding her how uncomfortable such forward flirting made her. She liked girls as she liked boys, but flirting and sex were… not really her thing at all. Not like it was Jeanette’s.

“So… Therese told me you might be back with something for her. Do you have it with you?”

Her mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief, and Evie swallowed.

“I do. And I expect Therese will want to handle it personally,” she said. “She seems like the type.”

In an instant Jeanette’s face fell. Her eyes crinkled and her lips twisted downwards into a pout as her leg dropped so it was side-by-side with the other. All that was missing were the tears.

“I’m not just some silly doll, you know. All my life my sister has made me out to be some kind of joke,” she sniffled before looking at Evie accusingly. “She told you I was an embarrassment, didn’t she? That I couldn’t tie my shoes, let alone hold onto something for her. Is that it?!”

“No, it’s just-”

Jeanette ignored her, got to her feet, and started pacing.

“She’s always belittling me! She’s the smart one, she’s the favourite, she’s the successful one! Well, it’s not fair! I’m not a fool! This club’s success is just as much my doing as it is her’s!”

“I understand Jeanette, but I can’t give it to you,” Evie insisted.

Jeanette’s change in demeanour had been too quick and too slick. Like a routine she had done a thousand times before. Just pout, shout, and fake some tears, and whoever was her target would feel enough pity or discomfort to acquiesce to her demands.

But Therese needed the pendant to free the spirits from the Ocean House, and Evie had promised the ghosts of the victims their freedom. She couldn’t let them down over Jeanette and Therese’s bickering.

Jeanette, however, wasn’t quite done pushing her act yet.

“Do you understand what it’s like to have your own flesh and blood ripping you apart for two lifetimes? Can you?!”

Every muscle in Evie’s body tensed and coiled at the accusatory question and she scowled.

“Yes,” she said coldly. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what that’s like, and I’m sorry Jeanette, but I really can’t give you the locket.”

There was an icy silence before Jeanette finally relented. Her posture relaxed, melted back into her darling seductress stance as her expression took on a more neutral expression for the moment.

“Fine. You hold onto it. Hmmmm… since you were so willing to brave that big, spooky place for my darling sister, how about doing a teensy, tiny favour for little, troubled me?”

She fluttered her eyelashes for added effect and Evie did her best not to sigh.

“Would that put a smile back on your face?”

Jeanette practically beamed.

“Do you know Gallery Noir, down the street? I happen to know that there’s a charity event being organised there. Lots of influential Santa Monicans slithering in for tokan appearances. But there’s one thing they don’t know.” She held up a finger and paused for dramatic effect. “The whole event’s been set up by a Kindred trying to establish their own power clique in our city. And we can’t let that happen, can we? So I need a brilliant young upstart to spoil the milk.”

Evie gave Jeanette a deadpan expression.

“You want me to sabotage a charity event? Really?”

“Like it’s any harder than what Therese asked you to do?”

“It’s not about it being harder, it’s about the fact that it’s for charity,” she said accusingly. “Who gets to be in charge of what isn’t really my problem, Jeanette. It’s still screwing over the people who need that money.” 

She shook her head. “And besides, the Ocean House is abandoned. Gallery Noir will have guards all over the place!”

Jeanette pouted.

“Is that a no?”

“I just… Isn’t there anything else you need me to do?” she asked pleadingly. “Hell, you’ll probably just get someone else to screw up the event… So what if… I dunno, made a distraction or something? Keep the security guard busy so someone else can slip inside and do whatever it is you want done.”

Jeanette’s eyes all but lit up at the suggestion, which surprised Evie because she was certain that she was just going to hear a complaint about her complaint. Instead, Jeanette clapped her hands together excitedly and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Ooh, we could do it together! Wonderful idea, Duckling!”

_ Duckling? _

She didn’t get time to process the sudden new nickname before Jeanette looped their arms together and all but steered her towards the door as she began to babble her plan at top speed.

[]

Now Evie was more than familiar with playing the role of distraction. She had done it plenty of times with the Drifters when it came to their less than legal activities. Being the youngest, she was always good at pulling a bit of sympathy from whoever needed to be looking the other way, and her knack for reading people meant she knew when to play what act.

There were only two ways into the gallery, according to Jeanette. The front door and the door at the end of the alley between the gallery and the parking garage, though the way through from the parking garage was barred and the alley was guarded. Except Jeanette knew that some of the bars were weak and could be pried away; all she needed was for Evie to keep the guard looking the other way long enough for her to get inside and slash up the paintings.

Evie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt over the whole thing. Kindred ploy or no, this was still a charity event that they were sabotaging. 

But if Jeanette got too upset, she might just go and sabotage Therese as payback for Evie’s refusal to hand over the locket, and the last thing she needed was Therese to get angry and to call off the deal.

So she took a moment to observe the security guard for a few minutes to try and get the measure of him.

He didn’t look too tough, or even like he would be that much trouble. He was a squat, overweight man who looked like he’d been standing around for hours on end and the lack of sleep and activity was getting to him. He periodically rubbed his eyes, glanced around, and heaved a sigh when he saw no sign of trouble emerging from the gloomy rainfall.

Bored and wanting a chance to prove himself. The best way to handle him would likely be to get him talking, let him feel important about his work, and he’d never hear or see a thing going on behind him.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way over.

Immediately he perked up and puffed up his chest - confidence, ego, and relief that he might finally get to do something - and held up a hand.

“Whoa there, Missy. I’m afraid you’re committing a 351 - that’s trespassing on private property-” explaining the specifics rather than getting right to the point, trying to sound impressive, show that he knew what he was talking about “-I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises immediately, or I’m afraid I’ll have to be forced to radio this in.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to break any rules sir,” she said innocently. “I just couldn’t help but notice you keeping watch and, well, I just had to ask some questions about being a security guard. I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like, I really admire the kind of work you guys do.”

The hook was in and his eyes lit up.

“Well I suppose I could spare a few minutes, Missy,” he said a little too eagerly. “Always happy to support any potential future officers looking to be working for the greater good!”

It didn’t take much prodding to get him talking long windedly about his prior assignment in Hollywood at the Parasite Studios set, and how he’d been personally thanked by some bigshot called Isaac Abrams that one time, or how he’d managed to chase off some goons who had been looking to get into Tawni Session’s dressing room that one time.

He didn’t even notice Evie glance briefly over his shoulder as Jeanette hopped into the alley behind him and pried the door open before slipping inside.

“Now as a security guard, I have a Class C Weapon License; that allows me to carry a blunt striking implement for defensive purposes. So if things get hairy out here - haha and believe me they do - I pull out the midnight special!”

He produced a standard issue security baton. It resembled a small black club which didn’t look like much, but she knew from experience that those things  _ hurt _ when used correctly. He then went on to - rather graphically - describe how he’d used it to chase off some undesirables who’d been trying to break into the Nocturne Theatre Downtown. 

She supposed that there was a slither of truth in there, but wouldn’t put money on it. Besides, his enthusiasm in describing the incident made her feel vaguely uncomfortable.

The minutes seemed to crawl by before Jeanette finally emerged through the back door again - how long could it have possibly taken to slash some paintings? - and gave Evie a thumbs up before she disappeared back into the car park.

“That all sounds really amazing sir. I feel much safer knowing people like you are looking out for us,” she said the moment she caught the opportunity.

The guard grinned cheesily, and it was clear that he’d never heard those words from anyone but himself.

“Ah it’s no problem. I have to deal with this sort of thing all the time you know. But I really should get back to work now; lots of undesirables out there that would love to stir up trouble! Please leave in a timely fashion, and have yourself a good night.”

“You too, Officer. And thank you so much for your time.”

She couldn’t escape fast enough, and she quickly rounded the corner into the parking garage where she shook off the worst of the rain and squeezed out her braid before going to find Jeanette. 

Except Jeanette wasn’t waiting for her. In fact the only evidence she’d left behind was the knife lying on the ground. 

Frowning, Evie shook her head.

“Typical.”

At that moment the Beast growled lowly inside of her, and she registered the feeling as hunger. 

She hadn’t fed in a couple of nights now, and while ordinarily she would have just gone back to her apartment to feed on her blood bags, she now keenly recalled that once those ran out, that was it. Vandal refused to sell her blood, and even if he didn’t, it was expensive to buy more. That meant… 

She swallowed hard.

Well, it meant that she would have to find someone to feed on. She hadn’t done that since Jack had directed her to that drunk looking for his car. As good as it had felt at the time, the whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth. But if she ran out of blood bags, what else was she going to do to feed?

Then, as if the universe was tired of her hesitation, someone else walked into the parking garage and all but strolled up behind her. She felt the edge of a blade press against her throat and her whole body went rigid.

“No sudden movements. Hand over whatever cash you have, and I won’t have to get nasty.”

Her first instinct was to do whatever he said because it was better to get away alive than die fighting for a bit of cash. But then why  _ should _ she? She was a vampire, for god’s sake! She was the one with the real power here. He wanted to threaten her, then fine. He could afford to lose a litre or two of blood.

So she slowly raised her hands, as if in surrender, before grabbing his wrist and tearing the knife away from her throat with ease. She spun around, seizing her attacker by the throat and sunk her fangs into his neck.

It was so much better than a blood bag. It was warm and fresh and washed over her tongue as it guzzled down her throat. It would’ve been tempting to take everything she could get, but she had enough presence of mind to pull away and let him crumple to the ground, unconscious but alive.

Evie wiped a stray bit of blood from her mouth.

She still wasn’t sure that she liked the idea of feeding from people. The notion made her uncomfortable, even if it was unlikely to do them any long term harm. But if they were bad people then maybe it wasn’t quite so bad?

Hell, this guy had deserved it. Sneaking up on a teenager in an otherwise deserted parking garage and threatening them with a knife on the off chance they had a few dollars on them.

Without really thinking about it, Evie then snatched Jeanette’s knife off of the ground. Let him take the fall for the paintings, it served him right for being an arsehole.

As if right on cue, there was a shriek from around the corner. Evie peered out into the alley just in time to see the security officer being berated by a distraught and furious looking woman in a formal dress with an umbrella being held over her head by a harried looking assistant.

Jeanette’s handiwork had been discovered already. Time to get out of there before the police locked down the area.

She took off at top speed, sprinting towards Second Street and the Asylum, praying that Therese would be in so they could wrap up their business. The sooner she found Tung, the better.

And once again, the universe refused to cooperate with Evie’s desires.

She rode the elevator up with the pendant and diary in her hands, fingers drumming on the charred binding as the doors slid open, letting her out into the entryway to the office. This time she knocked before pushing the door open, remembering Jeanette’s earlier warning about not walking in unannounced.

And no sooner than she crossed the threshold did Therese slam down her phone.

“You! What were you  _ thinking _ ?!” 

Evie flinched and had to resist the urge to flatten herself against the wall as Therese bore down on her with an absolutely  _ furious _ glare.

“The gallery! That was  _ my _ event! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!”

Her heart sunk. The Kindred looking to establish a power clique in the city… Shit, it had been Therese all along. Of course Jeanette would manipulate her into helping sabotage her sister, why wouldn’t she?! Fuck, she should have realised it before!

“I-”

“Shut. Up.” She fell silent as Therese rubbed her temples, as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “I thought I could control my sister so long as Tung was out of the picture, but nothing’s changed. I should’ve expected that you’d succumb to Jeanette’s influence like all the others. But how  _ dare _ you!”

“I didn’t!” Evie lied desperately, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

Therese’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Jeanette claimed you did it for her - but let’s say I believe you. After all, you’ve behaved decently and rationally up to now. I imagine you’d still like me to call off the feud?”

Evie gave a miniscule nod.

“Yes. And I got these for you from the Ocean House.” She held out the diary and lockett. “Just like you asked.”

Therese’s eyebrows raised in surprise and she beckoned Evie over to her. She did as she was told and handed over the items as requested. Therese inspected them, briefly flicking through the diary, and a pleased smile briefly flitted over her face.

“Excellent. However, there’s still one problem. If Tung gets word that I threatened Jeanette, which he most certainly already has, it’s not likely that he’ll believe me. So, in order to call off the feud, you’re going to have to convince Jeanette to forgive me first.”

Her heart dropped for the umpteenth time. Of course. There was yet another complication.

“Okay… So how am I going to do that?”

“I made some threats against my sister - idle threats - involving fire and her impious satin sheets,” Therese explained briskly. “She took them quite seriously and is avoiding me. I want to meet with her and explain that they were said in the heat of the moment.

“I asked her to meet me at the Surfside Diner, to reconcile, but I’m busy with the club and my other endeavours. I’d like you to go to the diner and promise her that I don’t plan to take any action against her. Wait for her in the backbooth, near the phones.”

Evie swallowed and nodded; as much as a small part of her wanted to tell Therese that she should reconcile with her sister herself, she also valued having her head.

“If the Baron of Santa Monica wants her sister back, I’ll get her sister back,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

But Therese either took no notice or didn’t care to point it out. Instead she simply returned to her desk, waving for Evie to take her leave as she picked up her phone once more. Undoubtedly to try and repair what damage Jeanette had done… The damage Evie had been secretly party to.

Once she was back in the elevator, Evie slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. The doors slid shut but she didn’t press the button to go down right away. Her heart was hammering a mile a minute and she felt sick with anxiety. Nerve-wracking didn’t even  _ begin _ to describe that experience.

She cradled her head, with her knees pulled up to her chest, and she briefly debated if it was worth cutting her losses and running away from LA now. How far could Lacroix chase her anyway?

‘Far enough, probably.’

And there was the fact that she knew nothing about being a vampire or the world of vampires or anything. God, she wouldn’t last a week out on her own. She was still hesitant to feed, and fighting was something she didn’t know too much about yet. Scrapping she could do, and that was only passable when things were desperate and her opponent was caught off guard. She got the feeling that that wouldn’t work on vampires.

Finally, the overwhelming urge to cry finally got the better of her. She sobbed into her knees and her whole body trembled as tears tracked down her cheeks. Except as her vision blurred, she realised she could see crimson blotting her sight.

She wiped a hand over her cheek and then stared at it. It was smeared with  _ blood _ .

"Great so now I cry blood," she sobbed as a fresh wave of tears overtook her. "Great, just fucking great." 

The minutes crawled by as she did her best to stem the flow, but it was easier said than done. At least normal tears didn't make her look fresh from a crime scene or something. Soon enough her hands were covered with blood and her cheeks weren't doing much better. She'd need to stop in the bathroom to clean herself up before she even thought about going outside. 

Shakily rising to her feet, she elbowed the button for the ground floor and the elevator rattled into its descent. 

She was lucky that it was so dark that no one could see the bloody tear tracks down her face that had been inexpertly swiped at,and she made it to that bathroom without incident. 

It was the first time she had really looked at herself in the mirror since all of this had began. 

She looked a mess. 

Blood was smeared across her face and her hands, and she was paler than she'd ever been in life. Perhaps not quite as pale as some of the vampires she’d met, but maybe that was because she was still new.

But the most startling change wasn't the pallor of her skin or the fact that she was covered in what was essentially her own blood, it was her eyes. They were yellow. Just like…  _ his _ . Not quite as vivid but yellow nonetheless.

She had to resist the urge to throw up and instead focused on scrubbing the blood from her hands are hard as she could so she didn’t have to look at herself.

“Just got to talk to Jeanette,” she muttered. “Convince her that Therese won’t burn her sheets, and then I can find Tung. And when this is over, I can get out of here for good.”

She picked the blood out from under her nails, not paying any mind to the specks she was leaving on the sink. Then she splashed her face and scrubbed, doing her best not to look at her eyes as she cleaned away the blood. It had stuck in her eyelashes which made not looking at her eyes more difficult, but she managed.

By the time she was done, she was past the high of her emotional outburst. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink as she slowly recomposed herself; she steadied her breathing and slowly went over what it was she needed to do.

Go to the Surfside Diner and convince Jeanette that Therese didn’t intend to follow through on any of her threats and that they were made in the heat of the moment. Then Therese would put an end to the feud, and Evie could finally find Tung.

It seemed simple, but if there was one thing she was learning this week, it was that nothing was ever simple. So it was best to anticipate that things were going to awry.

[]

Evie had no idea if she ought to be proud of herself for being prepared this time, or if she should curse herself for being right. She crouched in the back booth and debated whether or not it was worth the risk of sticking her head out from around the corner.

The shotgun shell that tore through the seat of the booth just inches to the left of her head told her that it wasn’t worth it.

She’d showed up at the Surfside only minutes ago, and there was no sign of Jeanette. Then, just as she reached the booth beside the phones, the four guys who’d been sitting at the counter had sprung, three of them with pistols and one with a mean-looking shotgun.

And all she had was a knife. It seemed almost pathetic in comparison, but it was the best she had.

“Come on out, girl, and we promise to make it quick!” one of the thugs taunted.

She scowled. Like hell she was going to die like this. 

_ Whistle.  _

Without hesitating to think, Evie stuck her head out and whistled at the guy with the shotgun, the sound as clear and piercing as bird song in the early morning. 

The gun fell from his hands and his face took on a dreamy, vacant expression as he sunk down to sit down at the counter, his hands in his lap as he stared at some vague point in the distance.

His friends stared, gobsmacked at his sudden leave of his senses, and Evie saw her opening. 

She bolted for the door, legs pumping hard. The three remaining thugs weren’t so easily distracted though. The moment they realised she was making a break for freedom, their guns raised again and bullets tore towards her. 

But she kept running, dodging and weaving through the hailstorm being thrown her way. Her hand seized the handle, but before she could push the door open and flee into the night, a muscular arm caught her around the throat. She choked as the arm crushed over her windpipe, her mortal instincts kicking in as she struggled to breathe despite not needing to.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

The thug dragged her backwards, holding her up in front of his friends who still had their weapons raised.

“Should’ve thought twice before you screwed over Jeanette, kid. Now we gotta do things the hard way,” he hissed in her ear. “Boys!”

Evie made to grab his wrist, to force him off of her, but not before two rounds tore through her gut… And straight through the other side.

The thug fell to the ground, screaming in pain as blood began to blossom across his front. He clutched at his wounds, trying to stem the flow that rapidly seeped out over the dirty tiled floor, and Evie couldn’t help but stare at him even as her own wounds began to close. There wasn’t even that much of her own blood on her clothes. The bullets had just passed straight through her.

The two remaining thugs stared in horror, mouths hanging open.

“W-wha…”

“What the hell… How the fuck?!” 

Wild eyes flew from Evie to the dying man on the ground and back again, and then both guns aimed at Evie’s head in wild terror.

“How the fuck did you do that?! What the fuck are you!”

“I-I didn’t, I don’t-!”

They didn’t wait for her to come up with some passable explanation. Instead they just opened fire, screaming at the top of their lungs, and Evie had to throw herself into a nearby booth as the glass case of the gumball machine behind her exploded.

In the brief moment it took them to reload, she tried again to whistle and calm another of them. But this time it failed to have any affect whatsoever, and they kept firing.

Maybe it was the wild fear that possessed them, but it was evident that she wasn’t going to get away with sneaking away this time. She had to fight if she wanted to get out alive.

She gripped her knife tightly. She’d prefer not to kill them if she could manage it, but it wasn’t going to be easy, especially not with what they had just seen. Jack had said about keeping secrets secret, and ‘fuck ups not being tolerated.’ Would Lacroix find out if she didn’t kill them? Would she be punished like the provider of the werewolf blood had been?

She swallowed hard. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Get the fuck out here, you fucking freak!”

Booted feet thudded across the floor towards her hiding place, and as she looked up, she found herself looking down the barrel of a revolver.

**_KILL!_ **

Instinct overrode any prior hesitation she’d had. She lunged blindly and stabbed her knife up between the thug’s ribs as she threw her whole weight against him. He fell to the ground as easily as an unstable tower of Jenga blocks. He screamed as she tore the knife back out and then punched it right through his sternum.

A bullet grazed the side of her head and she didn’t waste time retrieving her knife. She tore across the space, jumped the body lying on the ground, and seized the final thug by the throat. 

His eyes bulged in their sockets as he was thrown violently over her shoulder, and he hit the counter with a heavy thud. He didn’t get the chance to recover as she kicked him hard in the face, throwing every bit of strength she had behind the blow. His nose shattered under the force and he screamed as his skull left a sizable dent in the steel. Blood dribbled from his ears, his eyes, every orifice of his face.

Breathing hard, Evie stepped away and finally lost the battle against the urge to vomit. A cascade of blood splattered over the floor as she doubled over, clutched her stomach and retched. 

The Beast howled angrily over the loss of blood, but once she had a handle on herself, she slammed it back into its cage where it belonged. She couldn’t let her control give way now. She wouldn’t let it.

Then, as she reasserted her control, she finally looked around at what she had done.

There was blood everywhere, leaking from the guy who had grabbed her, from the one she had stabbed, the one whose skull she had cracked, and at her feet where she had thrown up. It was everywhere and she felt sick as her mouth watered at the aroma wafting all around her.

“God,” she whimpered, clutching her braid and tugging hard, as if it were a switch that would make all of this just… disappear. 

But there was no switch to make this disappear, and it was only the shrill ringing of the phone at the other end of the diner that forced her to tear her eyes away from the carnage.

“What are the fucking odds…” she growled, stalking her way over.

If either of the Voermans had one more  _ fucking request _ , she was going to lose her damn mind!

She seized the phone more roughly than was necessary and held it to her ear.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” Therese’s cool, even tone said over the line. “My sister was just furious about your refusal to take part in her designs, so she sent those men to kill you. 

“But I’m going to make sure that it never happens again. Drop by, and we’ll take care of this Tung business.”

Evie opened her mouth to say something rude just as another voice pleaded desperately in the background.

“SHE’S CRAZY! HELP!”

Her stomach dropped horribly and her anger evaporated as the line went dead. She dropped the phone, the cord going tight as it hit the wall and she sprinted at top speed out of the diner.

Therese fully intended to carry out her threats, and if Jeanette died, Tung would probably never come out of hiding again. 

And as angry as the twins had made Evie with their constant scheming and double crossing, she didn’t wish either of them dead. Especially not at each other’s hands! Siblings were supposed to love and look out for each other, not tear each other to pieces in the name of power games.

She shoved her way through the Asylum patrons and all but punched the call button of the elevator. The grill and doors slid open, and she pressed the button for the first floor. 

The whole ride up, she paced anxiously, her fingers twitching and flexing as her stomach roiled horribly. Her chest was uncomfortably tight, and all too soon, she arrived at the door to the office.

Unsure of what her plan even was, she pushed the door open.

Therese had a gun in her hand - a polished silver revolver - and was standing side on, the barrel trained on the bathroom door where Jeanette was undoubtedly hiding. There were already bullet holes in the wood and Evie’s stomach lurched as she moved forwards.

“Therese, wait-!”

But when Therese turned… she wasn’t just Therese.

From Evie’s perspective, Therese occupied the left side, with her hair held pinned back neatly and her lips painted black, her eyeliner neat and precise around a steely grey iris. All she lacked were her glasses… 

The right side, however, had a hazel-green eye with black eyeshadow and intentionally streaked mascara smudged around it. Her hair was up in a pigtail, and her lipstick was red and smeared at the corner of her lip. 

Evie stared, gobsmacked, as her mind was trying to process exactly what was going on right now.

Therese didn’t give her the chance, instead turning the revolver on her.

“Ah, Evie. I’m really sorry it had to end this way, I truly am. You seemed promising, but you’ve been tainted by the stink of my sister’s schemes. And now, I’m going to make sure she never double-crosses me again.”

“Don’t listen to her! She’ll kill us both! Save me, and I’ll help you find Bertram, I swear!”

And now it was Jeanette speaking to her, pleading desperately. Her hand - the one not holding the gun - reached out to Evie, only for the other hand to slap it down.

“Shut up Jeanette!” Therese snapped, her side of the face twisting into a snarl. “I warned you to stay away from Tung - he’s turned you against me! I always looked out for you, but you couldn’t stand my success. You had to meddle, didn’t you? I didn’t want it to end like this, but you forced me!”

“You never gave me credit for anything, Therese! I was the one calling the shots! Bertram was dancing on my leash!” Jeanette’s side of the face twisted into a spiteful smile. “How does it feel to know that I beat you?”

They were the same person, Evie realised as her mind finally caught up with what was happening. Or they shared the same body. Two minds, two sisters. And even now they were fighting for control. Control of Santa Monica, and of the body they shared.

It was… well it was confusing. Evie didn’t know much about psychology; did the two personalities count as two separate people? Therese and Jeanette certainly acted like two separate people, even now. Perhaps it was best to go along with them, even if she couldn’t claim to begin to understand what was happening.

“Both of you, just stop! Why are you fighting each other like this?” she pleaded, never quite taking her eye off of the gun.

Therese’s attention snapped from Jeanette to Evie.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she hissed. “I’m about to rid the night of this devious, backstabbing whore! Do you realise that, despite her condition, she still…  _ fornicates _ ! With kine, no less! So despicable! So unclean!”

Then Jeanette grinned, malice twinkling in her eye.

“You’re one to talk, dear sister. Or should I say, Daddy’s Little Girl? Do you want to know just how depraved the Baron of Santa Monica can be?”

“Shut. Up. Jeanette.”

But Jeanette’s grin simply widened into a Cheshire Cat smile, and the shared face was forced to share her expression as if she was wresting control from Therese.

“You’d  _ love _ the world to think you’re a saint… when you thought I was asleep, I used to hear father come in at night… I heard him whisper how much he loved you in your ear before he-”

Then the angry snarl returned.

“Don’t finish that sentence or you’re dead!”

“Both of you, please stop,” Evie pleaded, taking another step closer. “You need to stop fighting.”

Then came back that Cheshire Cat grin as Jeanette exuded her smug confidence, entirely too pleased that she’d caught Therese off guard.

“Don’t you want to hear what happened? How she became the pillar of the community that she is today?”

“Shut up… Just. SHUT UP!”

“That’s enough!” Evie snapped, scowling at them both. “You need to stop, both of you!”

Jeanette scowled at her.

“You think Therese will just do what you want her to? Ha! She’s a control freak. People, things, emotions - if she can’t control them, she gets rid of it!”

“And you’re a wild animal,” Therese snarled. “You’ll rub up against anything that’ll take you in for the night, then, when you’re stuffed and bored, you’ll bite the hand that fed you.”

“You’re both wrong!” Evie snapped, taking another step closer. “Don’t you see? If you just worked together, you could both have what you want! You wouldn’t have to tear each other apart anymore if you just trusted each other.”

The sisters looked stunned and more than a little taken aback. Then Therese shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s possible. How could I ever think to trust her again?”

“Trust  _ me _ ? Who could trust you after what happened with Father dearest?!” Jeanette exclaimed, gesturing at the wall-to-ceiling portrait on the wall, particularly to the man in the centre of the painting.

“Father loved me, I was a good girl! I always did what I was told!” Therese protested. “You always hated that he loved me. You disobeyed him. You brought men home when he wasn’t there. You were an awful daughter to him!”

“Whatever happened with your father, it’s all in the past. You both need to move on, or you’ll just end up killing each other,” Evie insisted. “Is it really worth destroying everything you have over something that happened years ago?”

Jeanette smirked.

“Oh if only you  _ knew _ what happened all those years ago, Duckling. You see-”

“Don’t!”

“Father came home drunk one day and mistook me for Therese, because I had fallen asleep in her bed-”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s lying!” Therese implored desperately.

“-Therese walked in while he was there, and she saw me lying with him. And so, she went to the closet and pulled out his hunting shotgun, loaded it with deershot, and blew his mind out all over the silly clown wallpaper!”

She mimed an explosion with her hands as she said it, just before Therese could snatch back control.

“That’s a lie! Father killed himself because of Jeanette! She made him miserable!”

But then Jeanette’s vindictive, victorious smile returned.

“As I recall, he died with a smile on his face.”

But Evie just shook her head.

“Whatever happened, it happened a long time ago. The truth doesn’t matter anymore because both of you know what you think is the truth. It doesn’t change the fact that you need each other if you’re ever going to move on.”

Therese glowered.

“Why? How will this time be any different?”

Evie bit her lip. She doubted that sentiment would work here. They’d been pushed too far past that. They needed to see what they both stood to gain, as well as what they stood to keep.

“You’ve been so busy trying to sabotage and control each other that you don’t see how much more powerful you would be if you worked together,” she pointed out. “If you worked together, think of all the things you could do.”

There was a pause - finally - as both sisters considered what she was saying. But then Therese shook her head.

“Jeanette’s irresponsible. She’s undependable. A venture like mine requires class and distinction, which is something a pig-tailed, face-painting harlot does not lend very well.”

“You do have a way with words, sister,” Jeanette sneered. “You’re right, I’m not in the same class, am I? I mean, murderers are so respectful these days.”

“This is what I’m talking about. You just see the worst in each other. But if you give each other a chance, you could make this work. Therese, you could start by giving Jeanette more responsibility, and-”

“More responsibility? So that she can ruin every opportunity I give her?”

“Of course. You’re the only one who can secure zoning permits and shake hands,” Jeanette interjected, rolling her eyes. “I’d never be able to keep up.”

“And Jeanette,” Evie forcefully continued, trying to ignore the interrupting, “you need to promise to stop sabotaging Therese’s plans.”

Jeanette pouted.

“But I only do it for attention! And out of love…”

“You do it because you’re vindictive and jealous!”

“And you deserve it!”

Evie buried her face in her hands and groaned deeply. 

They were so determined to hate each other; Therese refused to see Jeanette as anything more substantial than a child in need of protecting and scolding, while Jeanette was determined to see Therese crumble and fail. It almost felt impossible to get them to even consider the idea of getting along…

She paused. Now that was an avenue she hadn’t explored just yet.

“There must have been a time where the two of you got along and just loved each other, right?” she broached tentatively. “You’re sisters! Surely you weren’t always at each other’s throats like this.”

Stunned silence. And then the sisters’ face fell into quiet contemplation as the hand without the gun reached over and gently held the elbow.

“Yes…” Jeanette admitted quietly. “There was a time.”

Evie nodded.

“Tell me about that time. Both of you.”

Therese hesitated, then sighed.

“When I was a child, I didn’t have many friends… I suppose Jeanette was the only one. We never did get to go out of the house much. Father wouldn’t allow us-”

“-He said we’d get hurt. So we stayed inside and we imagined our own worlds. And we spent so much time there, together, ruling over those places. Those were-”

“-Happier times… Before we grew apart.”

Evie approached slowly until she was standing in front of the sisters.

“You don’t really want to kill each other, do you?”

Their face fell.

“I never did,” Jeanette confessed.

“No… I guess I don’t,” Therese added softly, regretfully. Then she raised her head a little. “Jeanette…? If I were to give- offer you equal control in Santa Monica, would you quit consorting with Tung?”

“I’ll stop working against you with him… But since I’ve got him in my pocket already, there’s no reason for me to not to pay him a visit every once in a while. When he can be of use.”

Therese contemplated this, then nodded.

“That’s not a bad plan. There’s just one more thing. I want to be in charge of Santa Monica - but only publicly. I want you to continue to convince others that our relations are strained. That way-”

A devilish smile formed on their lips.

“-We’ll know who our enemies are. I agree.”

Relief sunk in and Evie had to resist letting her legs fall out from underneath her. She’d actually done it. She’d convinced them to work together. So she held out a hand.

“Give me the gun, Therese.”

She did so gladly, pressing the revolver into Evie’s palm without hesitation. In fact, her nose wrinkled in disgust just looking at the thing.

“Take it. I’d hate to look at it again and think about what almost transpired…” She paused, then sighed, and squared her shoulders. “I suppose now that Jeanette and I have settled our differences, I’ll call off the feud with Tung.”

She crossed over to her desk, pigtail swinging as she walked. Evie tucked the gun into her pocket, making a mental note to get rid of it later. As she sat down at the computer, it was Jeanette who looked up at Evie.

“Bertram’s hiding out in an empty oil tank at the gas station. I’ll tell him to expect a visitor, and I’ll ask him to be extra nice.”

“Right. Thanks Jeanette. And you too Therese.”

She nodded.

“Give Santa Monica’s regards to the Prince.”

“And remember to keep your tongue tied about what happened tonight, or we’ll have to-”

“-Kill you.”

Evie left the Asylum, wobbly legged and in desperate need of some blood to calm her nerves. 

That had been an ordeal to say the least. Finding out that Therese and Jeanette were the same person was one thing, but to then have to learn about their history as they bickered and tried killing each other while figuring out a way to stop them… 

She sunk against the alley wall, debating whether or not she’d go see Tung tonight or hold off until tomorrow when she felt a little more put together.

Either way, she’d need to feed before going. She’d burned through a bit of blood in the diner and her nerves were frazzled. 

She glanced around, and spotted a guy taking a leak further up the alley, just behind the dumpster. Not ideal, but he was out of sight from the street… He’d have to do for now.

So she did as Jack had taught her. She crept up behind him, bore her fangs, and fed.


	7. Ignition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the feud ended, Evie can finally complete the task given to her by Lacroix. And she knows it won't be easy.

It surprised Evie how easy it was to get out of bed, considering the previous night’s misadventure. 

Three men dead, one jailed, and Therese and Jeanette not only turned out to be the same person, but had been a hair’s breadth away from killing each other after centuries of refusing to trust one another and stabbing each other in the back.    
Even after a good feed, going to see Tung after all of that felt like it would be too much after one night. So she’d put it off one more day despite fully expecting to want to stay tucked up in a cocoon of blankets instead of going out.

Instead here she was, double-checking she had everything she needed. The astrolite sat in her backpack, carefully wrapped in an old bedsheet that she’d ‘borrowed’ from Murietta’s still-empty apartment, and she had a machete - tucked safely in its sheath - stored into the front pocket, along with a couple of blood bags from her stash, Therese’s revolver, and a few unloaded magazines that she’d purchased from Trip.

She still fully intended to get rid of the gun, but had decided to hold onto it for this trip as a precaution. Preferably she wouldn’t need it, but if she did, she had it.

Now all that was left was to meet with Tung, who was expecting her at the gas station as Jeanette had promised. That didn’t stop her from triple checking that the astrolite was firmly secured in her bag before she gingerly hoisted it onto her back, letting the weight settle across her shoulders. 

Mercurio could assure her a million times that it wouldn’t go off until it was armed, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Finally she was left without any choice but to set out for the gas station. The lock of the door clicked shut - maybe for the final time - and with legs that felt like lead, she slowly began her descent to the street outside.

It was raining again, but the thunder and lightning had passed at least. Much as she enjoyed a good storm, it had been a little sharp on the senses at first, and the last thing she needed was another complicating factor tonight. Knowing her luck, she’d get hit by lightning and the astrolite would explode, taking her with it.

By the time she reached the gate that fenced off the empty oil tank that Jeanette had described, her stomach was in knots as she couldn’t help but imagine increasingly gruesome scenarios, all involving the astrolite going off without warning while it was still stuffed in her bag. She was relieved to finally be rid of it, even if being rid of it meant blowing up a warehouse full of Sabbat. Based on what Jack had said, they’d probably do the same to her and be all too happy about it.

Still she lingered, fingers wrapped around the cold, dripping chainlink of the fence. She stared at the rotted-out hole in the side of the tank, as if waiting for something awful to leap out of the darkness.

What was Tung like, she wondered. All she knew about him was that he was a Nosferatu, he liked screwing over Therese’s plans, and he had Knox do all of his leg work for him. Somehow she doubted she wouldn’t be receiving anymore warm a greeting than she’d received anywhere else in this city.    
So far, Mercurio had been the nicest person she’d met who hadn’t tried pulling the wool over her eyes, and he’d been bleeding to death when she met him face to face. What kind of greeting could she expect from a vampire in his own home?

‘Enough overthinking Evie,’ she huffed. ‘Go big or go home.’

Personally she wanted to go home but that wasn’t really an option, so she tugged open the gate and made her way inside.

Inside the tank was dry at least, and beside the hole a heavy wooden palette was propped up against the wall; it was clearly meant to keep the daylight out after sun up. A couple of rugs had been thrown over the dirt floor in an effort to make the place seem a little more homely, and an impressive looking computer setup was arranged up against the wall furthest from the ‘entrance.’ 

A bank of computer monitors lit up the dark, and silhouetted against them was a monstrous figure that turned to glanced over at her over the back of his chair, and Evie had to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

Sitting there is a patched, dirty jacket with a pink fur collar was a vampire. Not the first of his kind she had seen, but he was a whole different brand of horrifying nonetheless.

His entire head was bald with enormous boils, sores and tumors stretching his craggy, inflamed skin, giving him a misshapen, lopsided appearance. One of his ears was fused with his scalp, and the other was pointed and crooked with a golden hoop earring dangling off of it. His brow ridge was so pronounced that his bright red eyes looked smaller than they were, and his mouth… It was filled with irregularly sized and shaped fangs that somehow interlocked regardless.

He took one look at Evie, chuckled and said, “look who finally made it. Thought you’d never find me, did ya sweetheart?”

His chair spun around and he rose to his feet. He wasn’t that much taller than Evie was and he kept his hands in his pocket, standing in a casual slouch as if that was supposed to make her feel less intimidated or something.

“So you’re the one I’m waiting on? Hmph. Someone must have faith in you, Cupcake. That or they want you out of the picture. Hmm. Interesting choice either way.”

Slowly, Evie lowered her hands from her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at Tung. This was a Nosferatu then. So the guy at court, the one who had warned her to stay quiet, maybe he was one too…?

“Y-you know I was looking for you?” she asked quietly, still fighting to control the urge to flee.

He just shrugged.

“I’ve gotten good at knowing when I’m wanted. Don’t bother with the introductions, Fledgling; I know who you are.”

“You do?”

His grin spread and his eyes narrowed, somehow distorting his features even more.

“News travels down the Kindred grapevine like wildfire. And that courtroom spat between Lacroix and Nines Rodriguez is a juicy little morsel, and you in the middle… how interesting.”

“I survived,” she said as evenly as she could.

The worst of the shock began to wear off as she got more accustomed to Tung’s appearance. She knew to be wary of him, given his little scheme with Knox, but he didn’t seem all that bad so far. Still he had caught her off guard. In spite of everything she’d seen so far, she still didn’t really grasp how drastic a change vampirism could be.

“You did, did you? Well, I wasn’t worried. So tell me Cupcake; why’d you need to find me? What do ya need?”

“There’s a warehouse. Lacroix wants it gone,” she explained. “Mercurio says that it’s a ‘Sabbat interest’?”

Tung raised a brow and snorted.

“Ah. Right. I’ve been watching the place. The Sabbat has a bunch of lowlife humans working day and night moving stuff through there. There’s some major staging going on.”

“For what? What are the Sabbat even trying to do?”

The question masked the million others she had. Jack had called them ‘mindless, bloodthirsty assholes’ but hadn’t elaborated any further than that. If they were organised enough to be ‘staging’ anything, then surely there was more to their whole deal than just being assholes?

“The Sabbat - geez, you really are green,” Tung huffed, shaking his head. “It’s like this: we’re all monsters, like it or not. I’m not gonna say that the Sabbat are the evil vampires cuz none of us are really the good guys here.

“But the Sabbat, they glorify their monstrous nature. They refuse to hide it, and go out of their way to show it. They’re also brainless and reckless; they have a lifetime expectancy of a vampire fruit fly.”

“But I should only expect humans?”

He nodded. 

“As far as I can tell. The humans seem to know the score from the way they’ve been talking. I think most of them have aspirations of joining the next graduating class of shovelheads.” He sneered, bearing those strange, warped fangs. “Ugh, losers.”

“I thought humans weren’t supposed to know about all-” she gestured vaguely “-this.”

“Ideally. Makes life easier for all of us. It’s one of the few things that the Camarilla and the Anarchs agree on. But the Sabbat mistakes common sense for cowardice. They want everyone to know exactly who they’re dealing with. So if you get in there and have to bust a few heads, think of it as ‘upholding the Masquerade.’”

In her mind she flashed back to the previous night; bullets moving clean through her midriff and burying themselves in the guy behind her, a warm spray of blood over her back, over her hands, and the crunching of bone and steel under her boot.

She tensed, felt sick, then shook it off. If she had to defend herself, then she’d have to defend herself. But she’d try not to think about it for now. With any luck, they would never even know she was there until the warehouse went up in flames.

If Bertram noticed, he said nothing.

“So can you get me to the warehouse undetected?” she asked, refocusing on the task at hand.

“Yes I can. Just tell me when you’re ready and we’ll leave. Once you’re there, however, you’re on your own. You’ll have to get inside and plant the explosives in the main office to bring the whole place down.”

The astrolite in her bag seemed to weigh heavier on her shoulders for a moment, but she nodded regardless. By the end of tonight, she’d either have passed Lacroix’s trial and would be able to leave Santa Monica, or she’d be dead. Either way she was happy just to see it done and hopefully leave the worst of the craziness behind her. Maybe finally learn some things about herself and this strange world she’d become a part of.

[]

Sewers again. Of course it was sewers. Tung had to lead her to the warehouse that way because how else was he supposed to move around the city undetected by mortal eyes? It didn’t change the fact that Evie was probably going to have to buy new clothes again; at least now she had two pairs of clothes for sewer ventures, as if that made it any better. 

Tung knew exactly where he was going though, which was a small consolation. He never varied his path, never second-guessed where he was going, and they didn’t once backtrack because of a wrong turn. Probably came with being a Nosferatu; if all of them looked like this, then the sewers were probably the one place where they were unlikely to break the Masquerade.

It seemed a bit unfair, but life rarely was fair. And unlife seemed worse in comparison.

After a good couple hours of trudging endlessly through the dark, Tung finally came to a stop and peered upwards. His eyes narrowed and he nodded.

“Okay, this is the place,” he grunted. “Head up those stairs there and you’ll come out into the old train station. Warehouse is on the opposite side of the yard. This is where the humans spend their off-time, but this time of night, there shouldn’t be too many hanging about.

“I’ll wait here. You’re not back in an hour, and I’ll assume you got yourself killed in there.”

And without another word he sat himself down on the concrete step. It didn’t stop him from watching her from the corner of his eye as she readied herself though.    
She strapped the sheathed machete to one hip, and holstered Therese’s gun on the other. Then she made sure her keys were suitably secured and muffled - didn’t need the jingle to give her away - and tried to get the worst of the sewage off her shoes. It would be too easy to leave a trail otherwise.

“Good luck, Cupcake,” Tung called after her as she ascended the steps, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“What kind of nickname is ‘Cupcake’?” she grumbled under her breath. 

Then she shook her head. Less talking to herself tonight. It would get her caught otherwise. She needed to focus if she wanted to get back before Tung shrugged his shoulders and decided she was a lost cause. She needed him if she was going to find her way back to Santa Monica.

The stairs eventually fettered out into a steep dirt slope that ended in a slit in the earth that led into an old disused bathroom that stunk to high heaven of stagnant water, stale air freshener, and other unpleasant things that she didn’t want to think about. The door to the room was missing, and directly across the hall, standing at a urinal, was one of the humans Tung had mentioned.   
She’d gotten lucky with her timing. If he hadn’t already been facing the other way, he’d have seen her immediately and there would go her element of surprise.

Careful not to scuff her shoes on the cracked tile floor, Evie crept out of the bathroom and around the corner to avoid being seen or heard.

The train station really was a dump. Plaster had been carved from the walls, there was trash all over the floor, and stained mattresses had been dragged in from elsewhere to provide the workers a place to sleep.   
In the central lobby, the benches had been pried up and used to barricade the doors on one side of the room, and an oil drum sat in the middle of the room with a fire crackling away all too happily inside.

If this was what the Sabbat promised its members, Evie struggled to understand why anyone would want to join up in the first place. Lacroix might have given her a shithole to live in, but at least it had running water.

She would have derided the space further if the wall to her left hadn’t caught her attention. A wooden palette was propped up against it, seemingly at random, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was anything but.

And upon investigation, she proved correct. When she pulled the edge of the palette back, she was hit by a cold draft and the muffled sound of rainfall suddenly became clear as day. There was a sizeable hole in the wall, leading out into the trainyard itself.

Nudging the palette further back, she crawled through the gap, doing her best not to knock it over or make too much noise as she emerged onto the platform beyond.

There was another burning oil drum sitting on the platform, spitting out orange sparks and wisps of oily smoke. A single yellow lamp otherwise lit the platform and its grimy, half-rotten boards. Chunks of brick, shattered glass, and cigarette butts were littered everywhere, and there were so many muddy bootprints everywhere from the workers going back and forth that Evie’s were unlikely to make much visible difference. A ramp made from old planks and plywood had been erected from the platform to the rails, and it was evident that this was the main thoroughfare that the workers had been making use of.

Rows upon rows of old boxcars were parked across the yard, some rusted through from years of disuse and exposure to the elements, while others looked somewhat newer - all of them had been treated with a pressure hose at some point though because there were still the tell-tale signs of faded graffiti on the one closest.

And standing over the yard was the warehouse. It was a large brick building with numerous grimy windows, and occasional sounds of activity pierced the night air; it was mostly the grind of steel crates on concrete and bellowed orders. Otherwise it was hard to tell what was going on exactly.

Evie eyed the ramp warily and decided not to trust her luck this time. She crouched down beside one of the boxcar and hopped down from the platform. The mud squelched underfoot and she crouched in the shadows, listening intently.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on here tonight? Marcus is all in everyone’s face and shit.”

“Didn’t you hear? Some new equipment came in. Some pretty serious hardware.”

She kept low and crept forwards, peering out around a corner.

There were a pair of guys standing under a concrete streetlamp, one of the several that lit the yard. The smaller one was pacing back and forth agitatedly while his friend just watched him, vaguely disinterested.

“Yeah, but what the fuck. We get that kind of shit in here all the time. What’s so different about tonight?” the Small Guy swore, shaking his head.

“I dunno, but Marcus is tense as a motherfucker. So keep your mouth shut unless you wanna answer to him or that pal of his that’s prowlin’ around.”

They both looked vaguely disturbed for a moment, and Evie withdrew back into the shadows of her cover. She drew in a shaky breath. She needed to get past the pair unseen unless she wanted to bring every gun in the yard down on her, and preferably she needed to get by unseen. So she peered under the boxcar. Ordinarily crawling under a train car was not the slightest bit recommendable, but these old train cars weren’t going anywhere anytime soon so how risky could it be really?

She lay flat on her belly while trying not to think about how mucky she was going to be by the end of the night, and began to crawl forwards.

It was not a pleasant or uncomfortable experience, but she reached the far end of the yard unseen, albeit with a muddy front, and the two workers were far enough away that she didn’t need to worry about being spotted. 

After a vain brush off, she slowly crept between the train cars, taking care to stay low and out of sight as she picked her way towards the warehouse.

‘Couldn’t have given me a map, could you Tung?’ she thought to herself with a grimace.

She was lucky enough to not need one. As she came around to the side of the warehouse, she spotted a door - unguarded and illuminated only by a single light. It was a much safer bet than going in the front, with its five armed guards who were looking out over the train cars, evidently bored out of their brains and hoping something would happen.

So she crept as quickly and quietly as she could towards the door, keeping her ears open. She resorted to crawling under a second boxcar when it became evident that a group of workers had taken some time off to play cards and that sneaking past them to reach the door wasn’t a feasible approach.   
They all laughed and chattered amongst themselves, and again the name Marcus cropped up. It seemed that everyone was aware of the tension in the air, and that Marcus was someone to be wary of. The only real question was whether or not he was human like the rest of them, or one of the Sabbat. The ‘friend’ she had heard mentioned earlier had to be to inspire the fear she had seen on those guy’s faces.

But she tried not to focus on that for now. She was on the clock and still hadn’t made it inside. Time to get a move on.

The side door had been left open, and led into a narrow alley that ran alongside the warehouse before opening up into the yard behind it. There were two guards on patrol, some large steel crates, another out of use boxcar, another building on the far side of the yard - one guy was facing it and the other paced the length of the yard outside - and a path to the left that seemed to go around the back of the warehouse it.

Evie worried at her lower lip. She needed a distraction to get the pair looking the other way while she made a break for that left path. With any luck, she’d find a backdoor into the warehouse. But how to get them moving…?

She doubled back into the unguarded alley and searched amongst the junk and litter for something that might prove helpful. And for once, luck was on her side in the form of a bright yellow soda can.

Grinning to herself, she returned to the yard where the two guards were keeping watch. She tossed the can into the far right corner where it hit the fence with a loud, metallic rattle. 

The guards sprung to life as Evie darted behind the steel crates, waited for her opening, and then sprinted the length of the yard into the alley. Neither guard saw nor heard a thing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she crept down the alley, becoming increasingly aware that she was well into her prescribed hour. She had to hurry up or else Tung would leave her behind for sure, and she’d be spending the day camping in the sewers which was  _ not _ something she wanted to do if she could help it.

There was a single guard watching the backdoor into the warehouse, and he was in the middle of some… personal business when Evie arrived. She chose to spare him a little dignity and waited until he had sorted himself before jumping him and sinking her fangs into his neck. He went rigid then flopped in her arms before she promptly dropped him into the mud. The Beast purred happily with the extra meal and she felt suitably sated.

Pressing an ear to the door, Evie could hear barked orders and the grinding of heavy machinery. It was impossible to discern any specific words or sounds, thanks to the din, and she could already imagine the headache her heightened senses were likely to give her when she went inside.

She tested the handle. Locked. Nothing she couldn’t coax open, and sure enough, there was a click and she cracked the door open, just enough to see inside.

No one was facing her. They were all preoccupied with crates, though it was impossible to tell what was inside of them from this distance. Probably weapons from what little she knew of the Sabbat.   
Opposite from the door there was a flight of steps leading to the upper floor, which was probably where the offices were. She could even see a door at the top with a window beside it. With any luck, the workers would all be so busy working and talking amongst themselves that they’d not think to look up.

So she crept forwards and put a tentative foot on the bottom step. There was a metallic tap when her rubber sole touched the step, but apparently it wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. So she carefully continued creeping upwards.

“-and when they come pick up the stash, they promised they’ll make us just like them. Know what that means?”

“Just. Shut up and start moving shit.”

“That means we never die, we get super strong, we can even fly and shit!” the first guy continued despite his friend’s beratement.

“We can even fly?” the friend asked incredulously.

“Sure, why not? They can do that shit in the movies, can’t they?”

Evie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. These idiots had no idea what they were getting themselves into, joining up with the Sabbat and not even knowing a thing about vampires. What were the odds that they were just turned into cannon fodder? Jack seemed to think that that was the fate of most new vampires the Sabbat embraced.

After an agonising few minutes of slowly picking her way up the steps, she reached the top of the stairs. She moved over to the window and peered inside.

More gangsters, just like the ones downstairs, packing up and securing crates with ammo, weaponry, and what looked like a bomb at the far end of the room. Tung was right. The Sabbat were preparing for war here. Maybe Lacroix was right to have this place destroyed. The harm those weapons could do in LA was unthinkable.

Still, this wasn’t the middle office that Tung had mentioned. She could see a door on the far side of the room, and the walkway continued to wrap around this floor, so she decided to follow it.

Sure enough, she was led to another door. She pressed an ear to it.

“Do you think I give a damn about excuses?” a voice hissed. “Do you think that the Camarilla are so stupid that they don’t know what’s going on here? Word is that the Prince even has an agent in Santa Monica, working to bring us down.”

“You mean that kid everyone’s talking about? Come on Marcus, you really think some snot nosed brat could get this far and not got herself killed? Lacroix either thinks we’re stupid, or he just wants the little shit out of the way. We’re good either way-”

“That’s not the point!” Marcus bellowed, and Evie winced. “The point is that that brat got that bitch, Voerman, to call off her feud with Tung. Meaning he can get right back to spying on us! How long before that fancy pants Prince realises he needs to send a  _ real _ agent? How long, Rhys?”

“Long enough that we won’t need the place anymore. Relax,  _ Bishop _ ,” Rhys huffed. “Now if you’re done beating your chest, I’m gonna head out. See if I can sniff out that Nosferatu for good this time.”

There were footsteps and the door to her right - the door leading into the room with the workers packing crates - opened and closed again. A chair scraped over tiles and there was a clicking of smart shoes going left. Another door opened and closed - to her left this time - and Evie knew her opportunity had arrived.

She pried the lock open and snuck into the office. It was empty for the moment, save for an oak desk, a couple of filing cabinets, and a whiteboard that had a series of dates and locations scrawled over it. Drop offs for the weapons, perhaps? They were all over LA. This was definitely just a staging ground.

She pulled out her phone and took a photo. Maybe Lacroix would appreciate her efforts once this was over. But now it was time to do what she’d been sent for; to plant the astrolite, arm it, and get out before it went off.

Underneath the desk was probably the best place to put it. If it was discovered too soon, the Sabbat would try and get rid of it before it went off, and Evie didn’t fancy the odds of Dennis mixing up some more astrolite for them again. Not after she’d stolen it and-

Her head hurt so badly someone might have stuck a knife in the top of her skull. 

‘Not now,’ she thought to herself. ‘Any time but now!’

The episode passed quickly enough as she forcefully turned her mind from the beach house, and she carefully deposited her bag on the floor. As carefully as she could, all while ignoring the prickling pain blossoming in the back of her skull, she eased the astrolite out of her bag and slotted it under the desk as she tried to recall the instructions Mercurio had given her.

“Press this, then that, then start the timer… And…!”

There was a beep and a light flashed red. The timer came to life and read-

“Three minutes?!” she hissed under her breath. 

No one had told her that she had that little time to get out! It had taken her the better part of an hour to get here without being seen in the first place, how was she supposed to-

“Hey!”

She had barely jumped out of her skin before she grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and ran for the door just as Marcus had walked back into the office. She burst out onto the walkway and suddenly, every eye in the room turned to her.

Without thinking, she vaulted the railing and leapt, landing directly in the middle of the warehouse floor. She hit the concrete hard and her knees threatened to buckle as she glanced around at the godsmacked idiots staring at her. Now wasn't the time to hesitate. She took off at a dead sprint.  


“WELL DON’T JUST STAND THERE!” Marcus bellowed. “YOU WANNA BE SABBAT, THEN KILL THE CAMARILLA SPY!”

She had already shoved aside one of the burly guys at the door and leapt to the ground outside just as an explosion of gunfire erupted behind her. Bullets flew left and right, but she didn’t stop to look back, didn’t even have time to flinch as one of them scraped the line of her jaw. She just kept running.

Behind her an alarm went off and there was a deafening howl to her left-!

_ SKID! _

She dropped to her side and skid across a patch of mud as a fast-moving blur of hair and claws flew over her. Then she straightened up and kept running for the relative safety of the maze of train cars. Her legs pumped hard, doing their best to carry her away as fast as possible, but there was a snarl right behind her.

Her hand twitched over the holstered gun, but a deep, primal fear gripped her. Instead her hand went for the machete and she turned fast. Too fast. Her momentum robbed her of balance and she was falling backwards, staring into the murderous expression of the Sabbat vampire, Rhys.

Her fiery red hair framed her face like a mane as time seemed to slow to a stop, long feral claws sprouting from her fingertips as she made to slash at Evie. She missed by less than an inch, and Evie slashed back at her with the machete’s blade. It only nicked her palm, barely enough to do harm, and Evie hit the ground hard, the mud squelching beneath her.

“Ha! Is that the best the Camarilla has to offer?!” Rhys taunted. “I’m going to have fun with you, little lick.”

Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed dangerously, and she lunged, claws gleaming. 

Evie wasn’t sure if her scream for help was in her head or not, but if she did make a sound, it was drowned out by shrieking, screaming, and… cawing?!

In an instant, a cloud of black feathers had engulfed Rhys, who was now screaming and slashing, all while chunks of her dead flesh were being pecked away. And then Evie realised that it wasn’t a cloud of feathers. 

Ravens, an entire flock of them!

They flocked over the vampire, cawing and shrieking and pecked, their talons and beaks shining with undead blood, and had Evie not been an inch from death, she’d wonder where on earth they had come from. But at the moment, she was simply relieved they had arrived when they did.

Rhys swiped again and again, trying to thin out the flock and drive them away.

“Get! Out! Of! My! Face!” she shrieked as she bled profusely.

Evie tried to take the opportunity to slip away unseen, but Rhys spotted her and advanced, pushing her way out of the flock by force.

“Oh no! You come here, Little One, and I’ll teach you-! Get off!” She swiped at the ravens again. “DAMN BIRDS!”

Her pupils narrowed into slits and Evie blanched. Something inside of her instinctively knew that whatever was about to happen could only be bad. Incredibly so.

_ KILL!  _ **_KILL!_ **

Her instincts screamed at her over and over; end the threat before it was too late. Time was running low, and this vampire was about to become more dangerous than was imaginable. Kill her and run!

Evie lunged with the machete just as Rhys turned on her, no longer bothered by the pestering of a few birds. The blade slashed at her neck, and Rhys roared. She seized Evie by the front and threw her. Hard.

The wall of the boxcar tore under the impact, and Evie cried out as she hit the opposite wall. The steel gave under her before she fell to the floor, certain that something ought to be bleeding because of that. The machete slipped from her hand and hit the floor, tumbling out of reach as Rhys - who wasn’t really Rhys anymore - crawled into the boxcar through the torn hole on all fours, like something out of a nightmare.

She more resembled a werewolf now, with those long claws, full mane, and those sharpened fangs.

A clawed hand raised over Evie’s head, and so she rolled. The floor where she had been a second across splintered and shattered as a hole was torn in it.

She grabbed the edge of a nearby crate, pulled it towards her, then shoved it at Rhys as she ran for the hole in the wall. Just in time to run right into the thugs from the warehouse. 

They’d caught up then.

Behind her there was a roar - if she had to choose between humans and an out of control vampire, she’d take the humans.

She leapt, planting her feet firmly against the chest of the nearest human and knocking him flat on his back. As she made to straighten up, she darted forward like a cat, dodging and weaving through the throng of bodies to the other side, jumped the tracks, and skidded around the corner of the nearest train car before the bullets began to fly. 

But as she took off at full pelt, instead of a pursuit, as she had expected, she was followed by screaming, snarling and gunfire. It seemed that Rhys had followed her out of the box cart and was now preoccupying herself with the thugs. She was completely out of control, no longer caring who was friend or foe, only desiring to kill. Evie’s stomach flipped, but she didn’t stop running or turn back to help.

‘They wanted to be a part of the Sabbat,’ she reminded herself. ‘It’s their fault for trusting those monsters.’

She reached the end of the row and sprinted the length of the yard, closing in on the station… And then something in the air shifted.

For a brief moment, the windows of the warehouse lit up before exploding outwards, showering the yard in a hail of glass shards. There was a deafening rumble as the world rocked, and the walls gave way moments later.

The explosion was deafening and Evie clamped her hands so tightly over her ears that she managed to draw blood. A fireball erupted into the sky, throwing up debris in its wake before raining it back down in a mix of scrap metal, brick dust, and smouldering ashes. The smoke chugged into a high, billowing column that could undoubtedly be seen for miles around, and the shockwave that followed was enough to throw her to the ground.

The world became a confusion of noise, bright lights, and shaking that seemed to last forever. Two more fireballs followed the first, and the aftershocks went on for a good few minutes that felt more like hours to Evie as she lay in the mud, breathing hard and trying to concentrate only on the raindrops sliding down her face.

She had done that.

She had known that she was setting a bomb to take out a warehouse, but knowing was different from seeing. She had no idea what she had expected to feel when it was done, but she felt unclean in a way that was unrelated from the layer of mud and grime that covered her from head to toe, and she expected that a single shower wouldn’t be enough to make it go away.

As she lay there, she wondered where everyone had gone. No thugs came looking for her, and Rhys didn’t appear to finish what she had started. Once the worst of the aftermath seemed to have calmed, the trainyard had fallen utterly silent, save for the drumming of rain on metal.

Finally she sat up and shook her head. She was caked in mud and grime, and when she wiped a hand over her face, it came back black. She frowned. And then she looked up and realised.

Oily black smoke blotted out the night sky, and a gentle ashfall accompanied it, coating everything it touched.

Her stomach churned at the sight of it and she was certain she was about to be sick.

But she didn’t get to think about it for too long. She had to go before anyone found her - Sabbat or otherwise - and Tung had undoubtedly left her for dead by now.

She gingerly got to her feet and staggered across the last stretch of the yard, finally reaching the relative safety of the abandoned train station platform. But it seemed that the night had a few surprises left in store for her. 

An ear-piercing howl shattered the tentative silence of the night. Evie leapt out of her skin and looked up along the nearby train. 

For a moment she thought it was Rhys, still crazed and monstrous, but then she realised that whatever was approaching was on four legs, not two, and it wasn’t accompanied by murderous snarling. She could tell just from the noise, and she heard it before she saw it.

Huge paws thundered along the roof of the train, and swiftly coming into view was an enormous white wolf, loping towards her at top speed. Then it took a huge bounding leap, sailing through the air, before landing squarely in front of her. 

“A wolf?!” she exclaimed her eyes going wide.

Except it wasn’t just  _ a _ wolf. In fact she was almost certain that it was the same one that she had seen just a few nights before. It was even bigger up close, nearly reaching her shoulders even on all fours, and it had a dense white coat that almost glowed in the dark. Its large red eyes seemed to almost scan her quizzically, like it was getting the measure of her.

Then it reared up onto its hind legs, when suddenly those were its only legs, and the wolf vanished only to be replaced by-

“The warehouse. Your handiwork, I presume?”

It was a man. A man with long brown hair and pale brown skin. He wore a long dark coat, a pair of gloves, and, weirdly enough, sunglasses. He looked faintly amused as he looked her over, but…

She wasn’t sure  _ how _ she knew, but there was something strangely familiar about this man, despite the fact that she  knew she had never met him before. Maybe it was some instinct, or the smell of him, but  _ something _ was screaming at her that they shared blood. A clan.

Her previous fear and confusion forgotten, she couldn’t suppress the excitement that blossomed inside of her as she pointed at him.

“Wait... You’re like me, aren’t you? You’re the same clan as me! Can you teach me how to do that?”

The man’s lip curled into a bemused smile, his head tilting to one side slightly at her excitement. But he didn’t scold or belittle her. Rather he almost seemed endeared by her. Even if she was covered in ash and mud.

“It will come with experience. Mastery of the Protean Discipline does not, as your generation might say, come in pill form.”

It was her turn to tilt her head in confusion, which probably didn’t go unnoticed.

“The Protean Discipline?”

“Yes. I’m sure you’re aware of the various powers now available to you. The ones that draw directly upon the blood we refer to as Disciplines. As a Gangrel, you’ve undoubtedly used some of these abilities. Though probably not in nearly so dramatic a fashion.”

A Gangrel? Was that her clan? She was a Gangrel?

A million questions were exploding in her head, and she wanted to ask all of them. But as excited as she was to finally meet someone like herself, she had learned enough about vampires by now to know that his patience was unlikely to be infinite and he wouldn’t want to stand around answering all the questions she could think of, so it was probably best to ask the ones that seemed most important for the moment.

“Okay... So who are you and why have you been following me?”

He cocked a brow.

“I see that my reputation, for once, does not proceed me. My name is Beckett. I haven’t been following you per say. We’ve just coincidentally been in the same places at the same time… For different reasons. So sorry if I unnerved you.”

“I wasn’t unnerved.”

His lip curled a little more.

“Of course not. Tell me. Have you by chance seen or felt anything strange since your Embrace?”

“I saw a wolf turn into a man. Does that count?”

He chuckled, but it seemed to be good-natured as opposed to condescending. In fact he almost seemed… refreshed? To be asked so many questions.

“That may be strange from a mortal standard, but you’ll come to learn that for Kindred, such occurrences are as normal as night and day.”

Evie paused and looked back over the last few nights she’d been having since arriving in Santa Monica. The Ocean House Hotel had been weird, and Therese and Jeanette had been an oddity in and of themselves. Did that qualify as odd? She didn’t really know.

“Well… I saw a bunch of ghosts at a local hotel, and the Baron of Santa Monica has a split personality…”

‘She’s undoubtedly Malkavian. Or should I say they are undoubtedly Malkavian,” Beckett said, shrugging. “As for the ghosts, again, that’s quite ordinary. I generally pay wraiths no mind. All but a few are willing to give up their secrets.’

In other words it wasn’t at all what he’d been looking to hear. Gimble probably wasn’t either, and neither was that vampire that Knox had sent her after, but what Lily had told her...

“I also met some vamp- Kindred on the beach who didn’t seem like Kindred. I even rescued one from the local blood bank. She said they were something called thinbloods.”

“Ah, yes. I believe I know the group you’re referring to.”

“You saw me talking to them.”

“True. Thinbloods are a fascination of mine. They are considered a weaker, more human-like Kindred. Hence the name ‘thinblood.’ But they are sired same as any of us,” he explained. “I’ve heard a large concentration of them live in this city. They’re one of the reasons I’m in Los Angeles.”

Well that was more explanation than any other vampire in Santa Monica had given her about anything at all related to vampires. Which wasn’t hard, considering that the other vampires in Santa Monica had told her basically nothing in the short time she’d been there.

“Well aside from that, I’ve not really noticed anything odd. Except for all the vampires. That was a new one on me this week.”

Beckett chuckled again.

“I can imagine it was. Most of my contacts have reported sensing something unusual in the night air. Like a sense of dread, or pressure. But I’m not a native to these parts, so I can’t tell if it’s irregular. And since you’re still fresh, perhaps you’re not attuned to it.”

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly from around here either…”

He nodded.

“Yes, the accent gave you away. At any rate, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss…?”

“Evie.”

To her surprise he then extended a hand towards her, which was probably the most respect she’d ever been shown in her life if she was being perfectly honest, so she decided to accept the gesture. He gripped firmly, but not too hard, and even through his gloves, his hands were freezing.

“Well, pleasure to meet you Evie, but there are rumblings for me to discredit. We shall, I’m certain, meet again.” Then he shrugged. “Or never again. Good night, Young One. And be careful. You’re very likely being hunted by the Sabbat.”

Well that wasn’t at all troubling to hear and didn’t make her feel as though she had just been dumped in a tank of ice water.

“Night Beckett… and thanks for the warning.”

He dropped her hand, turned, and vanished into the night in the form of a large black bat. And she realised that she had seen him in more places than one.

[]

At first there was no one waiting when Evie descended once more into the sewers. She was hardly surprised; by the time she’d finished talking to Beckett, she was well over the hour mark he had given her.

With a heavy sigh, and a few unhappy thoughts about trying to navigate her way back to Santa Monica, she began to trudge slowly through the sewage… Until she picked up on the distant sound of splashing drawing towards her.

Though she had a good idea of who it was, her body tensed up regardless. But sure enough, Bertram Tung appeared from the gloom, looking rather surprised to see her whole and hale. Honestly, that fact surprised her as much as it did him. Her escape from the warehouse had definitely felt more than a little desperate.

“Well, well. And here I thought you’d gotten yourself killed for sure. Nice work, Cupcake. That explosion’ll be all over the news.” He then snickered to himself. “Man, there’s gonna be some pissed off Sabbat just howlin’ for blood tonight.”

She did her best not to look too horrified over that prospect while he chuckled darkly to himself.

“Thanks, now can we get outta here before they start howling in our direction?” she huffed, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “I’m ready for one hell of a nap.”

“Sure thing Cupcake. C’mon.”

He turned and began to lead the way back through the tunnels, and for a long time the two Kindred walked in complete silence, save for the sloshing of water over their feet. And as they walked, Evie lost herself in deep, contemplative thought.

She was a Gangrel. That was what Beckett had said, but she still didn’t really understand what that  _ meant _ . He had told her a little about disciplines - powers that drew on blood - and apparently they shared one called Protean that had allowed him to transform into a wolf. But that required mastery of the discipline, he’d said. So what could she do with it?

Without thinking, she tried focusing on her blood in some way that might seem meaningful, and the Beast reared its head. The blood concentrated behind her eyes and pushed  _ in _ , and where before she’d seen mostly grey and hazy green, she could suddenly see everything - the tunnel, Tung, even the rats scurrying in the waste - in perfect colour with perfect clarity. But the living things seemed brighter, almost like they were glowing, and even at a distance, they shone like little stars, glittering on the horizon.    
Even Tung glowed against the backdrop of grey concrete and murky sewage, and he was much more dead than the rats were.

She blinked and then grinned to herself. It was as if it were the middle of the day, despite the fact that she was very much underground in the middle of the night, and creatures - living and unliving - gave off hues of red and orange, making it impossible to miss anything moving around her at any given moment. 

As she let the effect bleed away - she needed to conserve her blood after all - she wondered what else she might be able to do.

Reflecting briefly on her escape, she recalled the flock of ravens that erupted from all sides as she was chased across the trainyard and descended on Rhys, giving her enough time to get clear of the explosion. Had they come in response to her desperation? She vaguely recalled calling out for help, but couldn’t remember if it had actually come out of her mouth.

The Clan of the Beast… That’s what Rosa had said before. Maybe that’s what she had meant. She had also mentioned a Lone Wolf, one of the two people she could completely trust.

Evie frowned to herself. A Lone Wolf… Beckett, perhaps? Were Rosa’s visions that literal?

She shook her head. She shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. The world of vampires- Kindred was a dangerous one, and if she could only trust two people, then she had to be careful when it came to getting the measure of those she met.

“Hey, Tung?” 

“Hm.”

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t break his stride.

“Do you know anyone named Beckett?”

“Beckett?” He frowned and raised a brow. “I know of him. Why?”

“I met him. Just before I caught up with you, actually.”

For once Tung actually looked relatively surprised.

“No kidding? Huh. Must be something major happening if he’s in town.”

It was Evie’s turn to frown and she jogged to catch up to Tung, trailing a little behind him to one side.

“How come? Is he someone important?”

Tung shrugged.

“Beckett is a historian of sorts. He’s unearthed more vampire lore than anyone, but that’s all Beckett does: seek the truth behind our… Condition. Hmph. Must be nice not having to give a shit about the politicking. Ah.  Here we are.”

Evie had been about to ask another question before she realised they had reached the ladder back up onto the street.

Tung had paused at the base of the ladder for a moment and concentrated, and, just like before they’d left the gas station, a sort of mist seemed to roll over him until he resembled a perfectly ordinary human man in a perfectly ordinary suit.

“Soon as we get topside, you oughta head Downtown, Cupcake. Prince Lacroix will wanna hear all about this victory.”

It was odd to hear Tung’s rasp of a voice coming out of such an ordinary mouth, but she elected against saying so. Instead she just nodded and followed. 

She’d get right to that once she’d showered, dressed, and had some blood. Then, and only then, would she get around to reporting in to Lacroix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he has arrived. The Wolf Dad :D Thank you all for your comments and kudos as always, they mean a lot to me!


	8. Nines Rodriguez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie's finished the warehouse job, and it's on to Downtown. But first, it's time to be properly introduced to the man who saved her life.

_ “A massive explosion rocked Santa Monica tonight, sending several fireballs into the sky and prompting a lockdown of the warehouse district where the explosions took place. Early reports suggest that the warehouse destroyed in the explosion was being used in a weapon smuggling operation, and that the source of the detonation possibly came from a military-grade explosive being stored at the site. _

_ “Authorities say that it is still too early to speculate whether there is a terrorist connection to these events, but they have not ruled out the possi-” _

Evie switched off the TV, which has mostly been providing background noise, as she finished braiding her hair. 

It had been less than an hour since she had gotten back from the warehouse, and already she was preparing to head out. She had a few hours until dawn, enough to report to Lacroix and get back home before sunrise. She’d have preferred to leave it until the following night, but right now she needed a task to occupy herself. Otherwise she’d spend the rest of the night stewing on the very topic that was headlining the news.

So she locked up her apartment, headed down the stairs, and set out to catch the first taxi she could find. Ironically, it was parked right outside the Asylum. The driver had his window down, was wearing all black, and - weirdly enough - a pair of shades.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Downtown,” she replied with a sigh, climbing into the backseat. 

She didn’t elaborate further, but the Cabbie said no more, asked no questions, and simply began to drive. 

Evie pulled out her phone to check her emails. There was only one; no name, no returning address, and a rather cryptic subject line.

**_< From> A Friend_ ** **_  
_ ** **_< Subject> The Opening_ **

_ The game begins. A pawn is moved. _

She frowned, wondering if it was spam or a prank or something, but whatever the case, something compelled her not to delete it. There was no worth in keeping it. If offered her no information, but some part of her insisted it remain. 

So remain it did.

The rest of the car ride went by in silence save for the hum of the engine and the low-volume radio. Evie rested her head against the window, watching LA flicker by in a blur of lights in the dark. She’d had quite a week, and only in part because of Lacroix. Quite a few of her labours she’d undertaken to avoid the one he’d assigned her, and they’d all been something.

A ghoul with a penchant for mutilation, a strange vampire from a faraway place, a haunted hotel, two sisters who shared the same body, and talking to an authority figure on her own volition. It had definitely been a rollercoaster of a first week, and she could only hope that things calmed down a little from here on out.

Jack had told her to head to the Last Round once she’d wrapped her business in Santa Monica. She’d have to make sure to check in with him when she got the chance. Let him know that his advice had kept her alive. Maybe get more answers than the few she had so far.

Right now all she knew was that she was a Gangrel and that she’d have to be extra careful to not run into any Sabbat from here on out. And Malkavians were prone to split personality disorders? Maybe? 

She still wasn’t really clear how Therese and Jeanette being the same person meant that they were obviously Malkavian. Beckett hadn’t really explained that.

Finally the cab came to a stop and, without thinking twice, Evie climbed out. The Cabbie asked for no payment, and Evie just waved in thanks as she shut the door and he drove off. Only as she straightened up and took in her surroundings did she realise that she was well on the outskirts of the Downtown area; the Venture tower glowed like a beacon that towered overhead, but it still seemed too far away to really qualify as being Downtown.

She frowned, wondering briefly why she’d gotten out here of all places, before something walloped her in the back of the head.

The force was enough to knock her to the ground, and she barely threw out her hands in time to catch herself before her head cracked on the pavement, but before she even had the chance to react or try to even look up at who had attacked her, her attacker placed their foot to her head, forcing her to lay flat on the ground, and she barely saw the bat when it smashed her hard in the face.

Her nose shattered in a shower of blood and she cried out in pain. Her hand twisted up to grab her attacker’s leg, but someone else seized her by the wrist and twisted her arm so hard that it nearly popped out of the socket and she could feel the tendons straining to keep it in place.

“Well that’s just cute,” an all too familiar voice hissed as a boot toed her chin, tipping her bloodied nose upwards. “All that trouble, and it can’t even fight back.”

The boot drew away. And then promptly smashed itself back into Evie’s face. Except this time she bit down on the urge to yelp. 

_ Let them get it over with. Don’t make a fuss. Let it be over quickly. _

Old instincts, only marginally repressed, wriggled their way out from dark cracks in her mind and they seized her quickly. She let her body go limp and the tension in her shoulder lessened ever so slightly. She turned her face to the floor and tried to focus only on the colour red as it dripped onto the concrete below her. And she did her damndest not to cry. Just let them have at it until they were bored.

“Are you shitting me?” Rhys scoffed. “A little beating and it just gives up. Pah. Waste of good blood, this one.”

“Let’s drain it,” another voice suggested, sounding a little too excited at the prospect.

“Let’s stake it and leave it out for the sunrise,” a third added.

“No.” 

The hand on her wrist released her and the boot on her head removed itself. Then another boot roughly flipped her over and stamped on her chest. Evie squinted up through the film of blood filling her eyes, and sure enough it was Rhys, once again in control with her flaming red hair and yellow eyes, and hands with long, clawed fingers that were covered with thick red fur that trailed up her forearms.

“We’re going to have some fun with this one,” she hissed as she crouched over Evie, arms folded over her knee. “Think you could get away with blowing up our warehouse, huh,  _ Lick _ !”

One of her cronies kicked Evie hard in the side of the head, causing stars to explode in her vision as the third vampire just cackled like a hyena. Again she did her best not to cry out and remained still on the ground, staring past Rhys.

“Let’s pull out its eyes and its tongue and its teeth!”

Rhys smiled menacingly, her long fangs glinting in her mouth.

“Not a bad idea, Joey. If I couldn’t get my waste-of-a-childe’s teeth, then the little one’s should suffice,” she growled as she fingered the necklace she wore. 

Evie hadn’t noticed before given that she’d been preoccupied with running for her life, but the cord was strung with countless fangs of various shapes, sizes, and sharpness, and one in the centre looked far too big to belong to a vampire. It looked better suited to a very large dog or even a bear. Either way, it was as much a trophy as the rest, and Rhys grinned as she flexed her fingers.

“Open up wide, little Lick, and feel free to give Mama Rhys a nice big scream-!”

There was a furious screeching of tires followed by a crack, and the side of Rhys’ head sprayed blood as she was thrown to the ground beside Evie.

“SON OF A-!”

Her bright yellow eyes flew upwards as she clutched the wound that was weeping from the side of her head, and her lips twisted into a feral snarl.

“Rodriguez…!”

Evie snapped to attention and her head rolled to one side as she desperately tried to blink the blood from her eyes.

Sure enough, there he was, the man from the trial. The only one who had stood up for her when Lacroix was moments away from having her head removed. Dark haired, bearded, and with a gun trained solely on Rhys; Nines Rodriguez.

He was astride a large black motorbike, an old vintage model but lovingly cared for. Low-slung and impossibly loud, the glare of the headlights had all three Sabbat looking like a bunch of frightened deer as opposed to deadly predators. 

“Leave.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Spoken plainly as opposed to growled, but cold and firm.

Rhys got to her feet and stepped over Evie, her lackeys flanking her.

“There’s three of us, Rodriguez,” she pointed out. 

“Hehe, yeah. Three of us.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot us?”

Evie didn’t see what Nines did from her position on the ground, and he certainly didn’t say anything, but all three Sabbat immediately recoiled. Rhys glowered at him, weighing her options, before taking a reluctant step back.

“This ain’t over,” she hissed, pointing a long, clawed finger at him before she turned to sneer down at Evie. “We’ll find you. You too Rodriguez. You’re both dead! Nobody messes with the Sabbat and lives-!”

“Keep. Moving.”

He kept his gun tracked on Rhys as she and her lackeys backed up and retreated across the street, disappearing down a nearby alleyway. Once they were gone, he lowered the gun and climbed off of the bike. 

Little by little, Evie rolled onto her side. Her arm ached in its socket, trying to breathe made her chest hurt - her ribs hadn’t quite given out, but they were tender - and her face stung horribly. She winced as she began to get a sense of what was hurt worst and needed more immediate attention, and then flinched when she realised that Nines was standing over her.

She couldn’t help scrambling back a little, even though she knew she was probably safe. He’d saved her life twice now. But her eyes remained fixed on the gun in his hand.

“Trouble sure seems to like you,” he remarked dryly.

Then without even looking up, he lifted the gun again, and the barrel pressed itself into the chest of the Sabbat vampire who had tried to get the drop on him. He smiled grimly.

“Good effort,” was all he said before pulling the trigger.

Evie flinched as the vampire was thrown backwards and - like the bastard she called a sire - disintegrated into dust. Her eyes flickered over to the alley where his comrades had disappeared but if Rhys had seen or cared, she didn’t try to avenge him. She was gone for tonight.

“Execution still needs a little work.” Nines holstered the gun and held out a hand to Evie. “You look like shit.”

She took it reluctantly with her uninjured arm, and he pulled her to her feet. She stared at the ground, gently probing at the side of her head where she’d been kicked. Sore but not broken. Always a good sign. And though her shoulder twinged as she rolled it experimentally, it didn’t seize with pain.

All in all, she seemed to feel more hurt than she really was.

“The name’s Nines. You alright, Kid?”

She gave him a tiny nod, still staring at her feet, as her fingers kept poking and prodding her nose carefully, as if it would be encouraged to fix itself faster. At the very last it wasn’t dribbling blood anymore, which was a good sign.

“Thanks.”

Nines regarded her for a moment then gave her a small, if not tired, smile.

“Shoulda been more careful newbie - this ain’ the burbs.”

Again she nodded - her nose was beginning to realign itself which was a relief, and the throbbing in her head was beginning to fade a little.

For a few minutes there was  a not-terribly-uncomfortable silence as Nines waited for her to finish making a catalogue of her injuries and trying to wipe the blood from her face, and he didn’t pressure her to speak first. Instead he just surveyed the area, his eyes sweeping over the alley more than once.

“I remember you… From the court,” Evie finally said in a small voice.

“Good for you. Ready to move? No point in standing out in the open any longer than we have to.”

He began to walk back towards his bike and Evie couldn’t help but follow, keeping a short distance behind him.

“Where are we going?” 

“The Last Round. Sabbat’ll think twice before trying to chase after you there. Should give you a chance to pull yourself together after that mess.”

That would be nice, she thought to herself. 

She hadn’t been expecting to get jumped quite so soon after blowing up the warehouse. Hadn’t expected Rhys to be so on the ball in tracking her down. Getting somewhere safe - somewhere where she knew someone, like Jack - was preferable to going straight to Lacroix in this state.

Nines waited for her to climb on behind him and until her arms were tentatively wrapped around his middle. Once she was, he revved the engine, which filled the cold night air with a tremendous roar before they took off.

As they drove, the worst of the shock finally began to trickle away and Evie became more aware of where she was right now.    
She was seated behind Nines Rodriguez on a motorbike, bound for the Last Round, with the hair tearing through her hair and leaving her braid trailing out behind her. The rush of cold air struck her face in a stark contrast to the blossoming heat under her skin as her body repaired itself.

They raced down back roads and across intersections with Nines performing tight swerves and ignoring traffic officers point blank as they sped by. A surge of adrenaline swept over Evie as he launched them down a narrow flight of steps and swerved onto the street below, and the shouts of the officer faded into the night behind them.

As the buildings became more packed and the streets became busier, it wasn’t long before they acquired a tail in the form of a cop car.

The flashing lights and wailing siren were an assault on Evie’s senses, but Nines didn’t seem too concerned. He just took another sharp turn followed by another and then another before dropping one booted foot to the tarmac as he jerked the handlebars.

Squealing tires cut over the siren as Nines performed a perfect one-eighty turn and shot right past the oncoming cop car. The cop inside tried to shove their door open into their path, but Nines’ control of his bike made it feel like water, and it required only a gentle nudge to effortlessly avoid the door.

They took more twisting turns and it quickly became apparent how well Nines knew the Downtown area. Every turn was an instinct, every corner he’d experienced beforehand. Rather than acting consciously, he was following a mental map he’d built up over the years. 

The cops never had a chance of keeping up with him; he anticipated their decisions and made his own in accordance with that. He knew which turns they’d make, so took the ones that cut off or hampered their pursuit, and sure enough, they lost track of the bike and its riders within minutes.

And then they had made it. The very heart of Downtown. The Venture building towered over everything that stood at its feet, its peak all but invisible from below. Nines barely glanced at it, but Evie could feel the contempt radiating off of him as they drew close to the structure. 

But instead of driving by, he took a right, then a left, then another right onto a side street where the buildings were a little more ramshackle and packed together in comparison to the Venture building and the stately public library. Another right turn, and finally they glided to a stop.

Evie looked up at the bar they had stopped at. 

Three lights shone over the brick exterior, and just above them - painted in bold, black letters - was a sign reading  _ The Last Round _ . The windows were shuttered, and just behind the door she could hear the muffled pounding of music.

“Here we are, Kid,” Nines announced gruffly. “Head inside and introduce yourself to Damsel. She’ll get you set up. I need to go shut the ol’ girl away.”

He gave the bike an affectionate pat.

Evie nodded and shuffled off of the bike and watched as Nines rolled off around the corner. Once he was gone, she turned to slowly make her way inside. Her stomach was churning horribly, but she eased the door open.

The music pounded against her ears and she found herself being forced to squint against the vibrations just to see. The aroma of blood mingled with the stench of cigarettes and gunpowder, powerful enough that she could taste copper and smoke on her tongue.

The bar’s patrons were a mishmash of people of various ages, colours, builds, and aesthetics. There were as many people in stylish dresses complete with accessories and impossible high-heels as there were bikers and punks, and all were intermingling freely. Only two things seemed to unite the otherwise patchwork cliques and styles, and that was the blood and the fangs. Everyone here, the bartender included, was a vampire. Instead of beer, blood flowed from the taps, and more than a few folks had a pint glass full of the stuff.

Ignoring the gnawing hunger in her stomach, Evie pressed through the crowd. Nines had told her to find Damsel, but hadn’t told her who Damsel actually  _ was _ . It was only as she neared the stairs did she spot anyone even remotely familiar, and she made a beeline for him.

“Jack!” she called, beaming in spite of herself.

The bearded vampire grinned back as she pushed her way out of the crowd and joined him in the corner. 

“Well look who made it back in one piece,” he greeted. He gave her a slap on the shoulder, fangs glinting in the low light. “How was Santa Monica, Kiddo?”

She pulled a face and Jack just laughed.

“Ah look at that pout! Musta been pushed around by every vampire with a week of seniority over ya, am I right?” he teased. “That’s how it usually goes. Same ol’ bullshit politics from when you were alive. Don’t it make you just wanna rip somebody’s spine out? What? You sayin’ that’s just me?”

“It was definitely a whole lotta bullshit,” she replied, shrugging. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, the Sabbat jumped me on the way here. If Nines hadn’t-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there Kiddo.” Jack frowned. “I know you look like shit, but you sayin’ it was the Sabbat that did it?”

She nodded then explained what had happened, and his frown deepened as he scratched his beard thoughtfully.

“Guess they know you destroyed their little warehouse. And where you’d be headed next. Someone musta put the word out.”

“Well, one of them was-”

“Now, here’s a little interesting scenario,” he cut over. “I just wanna run this by you, see what you think: what if the Prince got the word out to the Sabbat that  _ you _ were the one that blew up their warehouse?”

“But one of them saw me there,” Evie pointed out. “She even tried to kill me.”

“Okay, sure, but how’d she know exactly where to jump ya? How is it that your cab took you to the wrong place, which is exactly where they needed ya? Huh?” Then he shrugged. “It’s just a theory, man, but who else is gonna be watching you so closely as Lacroix?”

It was her turn to frown as she thought back to that strange text she had received in the back of the cab. Someone was certainly watching her and her movements. Who’s to say it wasn’t Lacroix? And for the cab to have conveniently delivered her to the Sabbat… maybe he really was trying to get rid of her. The warehouse job had failed, why not try a more direct approach?

“So… you think Lacroix is working with the Sabbat?”

To her surprise, Jack shook his head.

“Nah, I know he ain’t. But he sure as hell coulda put the word out there on the street where the Sabbat would pick up on it. Eh, just think of it as something to chew on.”

“Right…” She paused, blinked, and then added, “oh right. Uh, Nines said I had to speak to someone called Damsel?”

“Course he did,” Jack chuckled. “She’s the Den Mother round here. Can set you up for the emergency haven, seeing as you’ll not be getting back to your’s tonight. ‘Sides, you look like you could use something to eat.”

“Emergency haven?”

“Yep. Go on, she’s right upstairs, can’t miss her. Don’t blink and you’ll survive. Damsel’s a spitfire, I’ll give her that, hehe. Now go on, shoo!”

Evie stared at him uneasily for a moment before slowly turning towards the stairs as Jack instructed all while unsure of what she was supposed to expect. 

Damsel, as it turned out, was a short, pale, red haired woman with a green beret and a baggy sweatshirt with a leather jacket tossed over the back of her seat. She sat with her feet on the table, and her bright grey eyes fixed on Evie the moment she reached the top of the stairs.

“Sabbat chase you in here, Cammy?”

“Uh…”

Damsel rolled her eyes.

“Tsk. Heard Nines saved your ass again,” she snorted derisively. “You think Lacroix would have had your back, Jack?”

Evie swallowed on the lump forming in her throat and mustered up every bit of nerve she had. Jack had told her not to blink. Time to remember how to make use of her backbone.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she challenged, hoping that the quavering note of anxiety she felt didn’t work itself into her voice.

Damsel’s disapproving frown twisted into a scowl.

“Oh ho! You wanna know what my problem is?” 

She practically kicked her feet off of the table as she rose from her chair and all but marched up to Evie - who had maybe an inch on her in height - and jabbed a finger hard into the middle of her chest.

“You! Are my goddamn problem!” she snarled, baring her fangs. “Far as I care, anyone who’d lay it down for some Cape in an Ivory Tower deserves whatever they get!”

“Hey back off!” Evie snapped back. 

A sudden jolt of red hot anger lanced away the anxiety, and she shoved Damsel in the shoulder. She barely budged, and the creases in her face seemed to deepen with her snarl.

“Or what, Cammy? Gonna go cry to Lacroix?” she hissed mockingly.

_ Hit her! _

Evie barely registered the urging of her instincts before she realised she had already followed through. Her fist had collided with Damsel’s cheekbone and forced her head to snap to one side, though it was more to do with being caught off guard than the punch itself. She stared, then remembered what Jack had said about not blinking, swallowed and lowered her hand to her side before taking a step back.

“You asked,” was all she said, trying to sound as calm and confident as she could, even though the onset of panic was already beginning to set in.

Hitting someone who was older, stronger, and angry rarely worked out well, even if they were smaller than her. What was she  _ thinking  _ doing that?

Damsel turned her head with a slow deliberateness and stared at Evie with an expression that was torn between furious and impressed. She quickly settled for furious and opened her mouth as she raised her fist and-!

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you.”

They turned and standing at the top of the stairs was a bald Black man with a small golden hoop dangling from his ear. He eyed the pair up, arms folded over his chest and he nodded at Damsel who reluctantly lowered her hackles and let her fist drop back to her side. She then folded her arms over her chest and jerked her head back at him.

“Good. Next time, Newbie, take it outside. We don’t need that kind of shit in here.”

And with that he turned and disappeared back down the stairs, leaving Evie and Damsel alone. The tension settled in the wake of the disruption, and Damsel glared sulkily at Evie as she all but threw herself back into her seat with her arms crossed over her chest.

Evie wondered briefly if she should even bother trying to talk to her again, but both Nines and Jack had pointed her this way. Probably best to suck it up and do what she’d been told to do.

“Nines said you could help me out,” she said bluntly. “Something about an ‘emergency haven?’”

“Yeah. Guess you wanna use it seeing as you won’t be getting back to whatever craphole Lacroix gave you,” Damsel grunted.

“Pretty much. Plan is to tell him the job’s done and get out before he wants anything else.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Best not to go getting burned up by the sun first.”

“Good plan.” Damsel paused, then shook her head. “Ugh, look. I don’t say ‘sorry’ often Cammy, but. Well. Sorry. Maybe you have an Anarch soul after all.”

“Anarch?” 

Yet another word she had never heard. Her head was starting to hurt, just thinking about all these terms and rules she had to learn now that her work in Santa Monica was finished.

It earned her another eye roll from Damsel.

“Geez, you really don’t know anything, do you?” she huffed, clapping Evie over the shoulder and steering her across the room. “Tell you what, we’ll set you up in the emergency haven, and Nines can fill you in on that shit himself.”

[]

As it turned out, the Anarch’s emergency haven was a small attic room, complete with a threadbare rug, a cool box containing a few blood bags, and a worn, comfortable leather bean bag. Yet it felt far more homely than Evie’s shitty apartment did, even if she did awake to the feeling of violent rhythms vibrating through the floor.

It helped that she’d gotten a chance to clean herself up after her less-than-pleasant encounter from the previous evening.

When she rose, she paused only to feed and re-braid her hair before descending down the steep, narrow steps. Damsel was at her table, as she had been the night before, and sitting across from her, smoking a cigarette, was Nines himself. 

The pair waved her over.

“Hey Kid. Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in a week,” she replied, dropping herself into a seat between them. “Lacroix doesn’t exactly give a shit how comfortable you are when he wants you gone.”

The pair exchanged a knowing smirk.

“Good to see that Cammy learns fast,” Damsel noted. “Told you she wasn’t all bad.”

“You decide that before or after she punched you in the face, Dam? Skelter told me about your little spat last night,” Nines shot back, which earned him a face. Then, after shaking his head, he turned back to Evie. “Look Kid, I don’t know how much you know-”

“Basically nothing,” she cut over with a faux cheerfulness. “All I know is that I’m a Gangrel, the Sabbat are a bunch of arseholes who don’t like me, and Lacroix is a prick.”

Nines shrugged.

“Not a bad starting block, but trust me, you got a lot more to worry about than just Lacroix. And just so you know, I don’t lecture, I don’t rap, I’m no bureaucrat. I’m just a guy outta nowhere came to be involved in something five-hundred times bigger than you or me.

“You gotta right to know the score. The Camarilla - this is the short of it. They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme. There’s a bunch of these old timers at the top, with God only knows what plots in mind. They lose their power, they die. They sired more to carry out their plans, and looking for a little power, then those Kindred sired for their own schemes and so on, on and on - it hurts my head just thinking about the mess.

“What it works out to is that only a few people at the top have any real power.”

Evie frowned and tilted her head to once side.

“So… it’s like a big corporation? And Lacroix’s in charge?”

Damsel and Nines both snorted in disgust.

“Prince Fancy Pants is only the leader of the local Camarilla,” Damsel explained, rolling her eyes. “He’s higher up the Cammy ladder than anyone else in LA, but he’s still some other Elder’s bitch.”

“And he and any other traitors who sided with the Cam will get what’s coming to ‘em,” Nines added. “We’ll show them what happens to power mongers who wanna bleed the Free States for their slice.”

“The Free States?”

“Anarch Free States,” Damsel interjected. “Where no one bows to the Cams or their damned Elders.”

For the next hour, Nines and Damsel explained more about the Anarchs, the Camarilla, and anything else that seemed like immediate need-to-know information.

Evie found her head hurting just trying to process it all; after a week of blind stumbling with what little Jack had been able to impart and the little extra that Beckett, Therese, and Tung had told her, she was now having to memorise all sorts of terms and rules and bits of knowledge with only a few vague comparisons to draw upon to help contextualise things in a way that made it easier to understand.

“And stay away from Chinatown if you can help it,” Damsel said just as Nines finished laying out basic Kindred territories within the city. “Those Kuei Jin bastards call it home, and they’re worse than the Giovanni.”

Evie frowned.

“The what?”

“Cathayans. They’re a kind of vampire from East Asia, though I dunno exactly  _ where _ they come from and how much like us they are,” Nines supplied, rubbing his eyes. “Just avoid them and you’ll be fine. They don’t like Kindred much.”

Cathayan… The word seemed familiar somehow, though she wasn’t sure where she’d heard it before. She had dealt with a strange vampire for Knox. Maybe Tung had mentioned it? Yeah, that was probably it.

But instead of mentioning it, she just nodded.

“So avoid Chinatown. Got it.”

“Good. Think that covers most of it. Well, almost.” Nines got to his feet and so did Damsel. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, is that Kindred need to learn to fight if they don’t know already. And after picking your ass up off of the pavement last night, I can tell you don’t know shit.”

Evie felt her face flush and she scowled at her lap. It wasn’t an entirely fair summary. She knew a few things. At the very least she knew how to scrap and keep herself on her feet long enough to get away. But Nines wasn’t wrong about her needing to know more. She’d been helpless last night and at the trainyard.

There wasn’t always going to be someone to save her arse when things got bad. 

“You’re going to teach me then?”

Nines nodded and beckoned them to follow. Damsel didn’t hesitate to follow, and so Evie trailed behind her and they followed Nines down the stairs into the main barroom, which was packed once more with some familiar faces from the night prior, and entirely new ones she hadn’t seen before.

It still struck her as bizarre that so many different kinds of people were milling around the room. Some folks easily looked like they’d be more at home rubbing elbows with Lacroix going from the cut of their suits and dresses, yet they greeted Nines and Damsel as enthusiastically as the gang bangers, punks, and goths as they passed by. In fact, someone even jokingly yelled ‘hi mom!’ at Damsel as they passed, which earned them a very blunt middle finger from the Den Mother.

As they crossed the room, Evie couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes lingered on her for a few moments as she hurried to keep up with the pair.

It was something of a relief to get back outside into the cold night air and away from the crowd, but Nines and Damsel didn’t break their stride and so there was no time to stand around and contemplate her ever changing situation. They led her to the alley around the back of the Last Round, and waiting there was the man with the gold hoop earring.

“And here I was starting to wonder if you two were gonna make me wait all night,” he greeted, grinning at the sight of the pair.

“Yeah well Lacroix didn’t tell the Kid jackshit. Had to fill her in on more than we expected,” Nines grunted in return before turning to Evie. “Kid-”

“Evie.”

“Right. Evie. This is Skelter, our resident Gangrel and amateur Noddist. Me and Damsel will be covering your basics for combat, but he can teach you a thing or two about using your disciplines.”

The friendliness in Skelter’s expression cooled as he glanced over Evie, being replaced by guarded mistrust, but he offered a curt nod regardless.

“Right.” She looked between the three older Kindred. “So. Where do I start?”

Nines directed her to a spot as Damsel moved to stand opposite her.

“We’ll keep it simple for now,” Nines explained. “First you wanna get your stance down. Side on, and keep your feet parallel with your shoulders. Keeps you steady and makes you harder to knock down. Now hands up like this-” He demonstrated and corrected Evie, nudging her front foot slightly and rotating her fist. “-Keep your thumbs out of your fists, or you’ll break ‘em.

“For now, Damsel’s only gonna block. Focus on finding her openings and weak spots and aiming for ‘em. By the end of the night, this needs to come to you as easy as breathing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter a while because I wasn't able to figure out what I didn't like about it. Finally realised what it was, and now progress is finally occuring :D
> 
> ...Yeah, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep to a weekly schedule, but so long as I update, that's what matters, right? I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, I had a lot of fun writing Evie's first meeting with the Anarchs. Leave it to her to cause trouble, right?


	9. An Oceanic Venture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things can only be put off for so long, and Lacroix isn't the most patient man. It's time for work.

As it turned out, it took more than one night to learn how to fight. After learning how to hit and exploit openings, they moved on to blocking and taking hits, all while Skelter did his best to teach her how to make use of her Gangrel abilities.

It was easier said than done.

Animalism came to her easy as breathing. Animals came when she called, and happily did whatever she asked of them. Soothing the Beast in them was child’s play, and it wasn’t much harder to do the same to a mortal, which made feeding a much more straight-forward matter. Kindred were proving more of a challenge, but she felt reasonably confident that she could achieve it with more practice.

And as if to make up for her natural talent in one discipline, she struggled with the others. Protean was proving to be her weakest point.

“You need to relax,” Skelter huffed, waving a clawed hand that she had tried and failed to replicate. “You keep being all tense like that, and you’ll never get far.”

Easy for him to say when unsheathing his claws was like an afterthought. Whenever she tried, the Beast got far too interested in what it was she was doing, and then her attention turned from her hands to slamming the door to its cage shut and so she failed to do what had been asked of her.

Skelter had decided to leave it at that for now. He’d said that she had the knowledge - the rest was about putting it into practice, and he couldn’t show her how to do that. It was up to her from now on.

She’d been so busy trying to memorise information and translate movement into muscle memory that Lacroix had completely slipped her mind until she woke up one evening to a rather curt message.

 **_< Subject> Report_ ** **_  
_** **_< From> Lacroix_ **

_Report to my office as soon as possible._

She heaved a sigh and wriggled herself off of the bean bag. It was going to happen sooner or later, might as well head out and get it over with.

Nines was leaning against his usual wall, as he was prone to do while waiting for her to get up. There was a duffle bag at his feet and she frowned at it as she made her way over. Nines looked up and gave her a tired smile.

“Sleep well, Kid? Good. Thought we’d do some weapons training tonight.” He gave the bag a kick. “Most Kindred don’t use guns, but they’re handy to have.”

Evie felt her stomach drop, and suddenly Lacroix’s message felt less like an annoyance than an absolute godsend. She grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of her neck.

“I can’t actually. Got a message from Lacroix. He’s getting pissy about me not showing up to report about the warehouse job.” She shrugged. “Might as well wrap it up before he realises I’m trying to avoid him, right?”

Nines didn’t look pleased, but he jerked his head towards the stairs.

“Right. Just make sure that when you square things with Lacroix, you don’t give him the time of night. You can do better than answering to that asshole.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him, but she still wasn’t going to complain for putting off any training involving firearms. The longer she went without touching a gun, the happier she would be.

So she said goodbye to Nines and made her way downstairs and out onto the street. The Venture Tower wasn’t far; in fact it was within walking distance, so she didn’t have to worry about another dodgy taxi ride.

Though it seemed that dodgy taxis weren’t all there was to worry about in LA these nights. 

As she rounded a corner, a pair of people in full blown hazmat suits all but marched across her path, not even stopping to notice that she’d nearly walked into them. Their voices were too muffled by their helmets for her to clearly make them out, but they seemed to be debating fiercely over the contents of a clipboard.

She frowned, but decided against prying. She had to report to Lacroix then get back to the Last Round before anything had the chance to go wrong.

Soon enough, she found herself at the foot of the tower. She’d seen it before, but had never been so close to it. Even as she craned her neck, it was impossible to see the top, and she had to squint against the lights that lined it. A pair of onyx statues flanked the ornate glass doors, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and immediately felt out of place. Polished marble lined the floors and tiles lined walls, and the vaulted ceiling was impossibly high, supported by dark marble pillars. As she crossed the threshold, her steps echoed uncomfortably loudly through the space, bouncing back and forth across every surface. Directly across from the doors was the front desk desk with a glowing neon sign above that read ‘Lacroix’ and sitting at it was-

“Oh hey there, Missy! Small world, huh?”

It was the security guard who she had distracted back in Santa Monica. He seemed pleased, albeit surprised, to see her. Meaning he hadn’t figured out that she was at all involved with what happened at Gallery Noir. 

He smiled brightly at her.

“After that gallery, I didn’t think I’d be able to get a job guardian’ a room full o’ jack squat for the boogeyman, but then I got a call offering me this sweet night shift slot, and I’m back in the security game!"

"That's great to hear, Officer," she said, forcing herself to smile back. 

“Aw, that's awful kind of ya, Missy. But enough about my lucky break. What brings you here this time o’ night?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Mr Sebastian Lacroix,” she said vaguely. "He's asked for me." 

He blinked, apparently surprised.

“Oh yeah? You his little sister or something?” He chuckled. “Big bro set you up with some courier work, eh? Helping you find your footing in the big corporate world?”

She blinked then swallowed down on a powerful urge to laugh.

“Uh, sure. Big brother…” 

She got the sneaking suspicion that if Lacroix ever caught wind of this assumption, she and the officer would be dead before she could say ‘Masquerade’. But it would keep him from thinking too hard about why a kid like her would have such high level access.

“Sure thing. Mr Lacroix said that he was expecting someone matching your description to be coming by tonight. I’ll get the elevator for ya. You go right on up.”

“Thank you.”

“You have a good power meeting, or whatever it is you family corpo-types do up there. You need any security, why you just ring the front desk and ask for Officer Chunk.” 

He then jabbed his thumb at the badge pinned to his chest and gave what he clearly thought was a roguish and charming grin.

“That’s me, if you were wondering.”

Evie blinked, then nodded.

“Right. Uh, thanks Chunk.”

She managed to force herself to keep a straight face until she reached the elevator bank in the centre of the lobby - there were six of them, with three on opposite walls, but only one was open so she presumed that it was the one Chunk had buzzed for her. Once she was securely inside and out of earshot, a laugh escaped through her nose.

“Big brother Lacroix,” she giggled to herself. “God, can you _imagine_?”

She shook her head and did her best to compose herself as the elevator rose higher and higher. She straightened her braid, double-checked that her hat was secure, and self-consciously straightened out the creases in her top. She was about to tell Lacroix that she was quitting, so it was best to try and build some confidence first if she was going to really sell it.

But the elevator kept rising, and the longer the ascent went on, the harder it became to maintain any illusion of confidence. Her foot tapped, her leg bounced, her hands fidgeted at her sides, and more than once she found herself pace the small square of space she had to herself. More than once, her fangs clipped her lip and threatened to slice it. 

That was just what she needed: to show up to Lacroix covered in her own blood.

Finally, after a very long few minutes, the elevator rumbled to a halt and the doors slid open, revealing a narrow, tiled hall. Her footsteps echoed uncomfortably loud against the steel-blue tiles as she stepped out and the doors slid shut behind her. There was a loud mechanical click that echoed off of the tiles, and a shudder as the lift descended, leaving her stranded atop the tower.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt like the place had been deliberately designed to make her feel much smaller than she was, with the hard surfaces pressing down on her from all angles. Even the ceiling was tiled, and suddenly she could only imagine it slowly descending with the intent of making her into an Evie-sandwich.

At the end of the narrow corridor, the path split in two identical directions with no indication which led to where she needed to be. There wasn’t exactly any signage. 

The Beast bristled as she looked from left to right. It sensed only danger, a terrible, suffocating claustrophobia that pressed hard against her chest. 

_Left or right, danger_.

“Vote of confidence,” she murmured as she reluctantly turned left. 

She wandered the length of the corridor, her footsteps bouncing off the tiles, up and down, left and right, creating a confusing morasse of conflicting noises that made her head hurt and skewed her senses. It felt like she was walking in a crowd of hundreds and the Beast twisted and snarled in its cage, completely disoriented and furious for it.

Finally the narrow corridor of auditory overload opened into a cavernous white room. The difference in light was so stark that her eyes hurt from how the light bounced off of the pristine tiles and furniture. A bank of computer monitors lined the wall to her left, while opposite was a flight of carpeted stairs leading to a walkway that divided the floor in two and led towards a set of oaken double doors.

She got the feeling that the corridor’s design was very much intentional, and as she reached the walkway above, she could see that had she gone right, she’d have ended up in the exact same situation. It all but confirmed what she’d been thinking. 

Lacroix preferred his company to be on the backfoot, it seemed. Well, Evie couldn’t exactly afford that right now. So she swallowed hard on the lump in her throat and approached the doors.

She knocked on the door and waited. She could hear heavy-yet-deliberate footfalls on the other side, and when the doors opened, they revealed the giant Sheriff standing in the doorway.

According to the Anarchs, the Sheriff was the Prince’s right hand and number one enforcer. Most Sheriff’s, however, had a name and some traceable history. Lacroix’s Sheriff was very much the exception to the rule. 

No one, Camarilla, Anarch, or otherwise, knew anything about him except that he did whatever was ordered of him, and that he was swift, brutal, and merciless when doing so. It all painted a rather terrifying image of the man, and it was hard to shake as she found herself being stared down at.

“Uh, Lacroix asked for me? He wants a report on the warehouse.”

The Sheriff stared at her blankly. Then stepped backwards and held the door open. Evie very carefully stepped inside and held her breath as he closed the door behind her. 

They were standing in an antechamber by the look of it; it was as featureless as the corridor had been with steel-blue tiles that made the room feel much smaller than it was. With the presence of a single bench and a pair of tall, faceless statues flanking the next set of doors, it felt deliberately featureless. Designed to deliver a cold air of impassivity and indifference; another means of putting visitors on the backfoot when meeting with Lacroix.

Evie was beginning to think that Lacroix had in fact designed everything about the tower to give himself an advantage against anyone who might call upon him. Be they friend or foe.

The Sheriff led her to the next set of doors before holding out a hand towards her. She stared at him frowning.

“Uh. Sorry, I don’t know what you mean...”

His expression remained impassive and unreadable, and his hand remained outstretched. Then with his other hand, he jabbed a thumb at the sword he carried on his back, and it suddenly clicked.

“Oh, right. Weapons. Uh, lemme just…”

She dropped one loop of her rucksack so that it swung around to her front, unzipped it, and promptly rummaged through it in search of her weapons. 

She didn’t have many. Just the machete and Therese’s revolver, which she had yet to dispose of. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind with everything else that had been going on. She dropped them into the Sheriff’s outstretched hand, and reshouldered her bag as he stowed them away inside his coat’s inner pocket.

Apparently satisfied, he turned away and pulled the door open.

Lacroix’s office couldn’t be more different from the floor below if the architects had tried. The walls were pure white marble, gilded with gold, and a vaulted ceiling that curved into a dome. A crystal chandelier was suspended from its centre, with tiers upon tiers of candles, their flickering lights catching on the crystal shards and dispersing it across the room into spots of light that she had to squint against. 

To the left side of the room was an open fireplace, and in its hearth roared a blazing flame. There was a mahogany table with three chairs stood around it, currently unoccupied, and made from dark wood and sleek red leather. The right side was occupied by glass cases filled with trinkets, delicate china pieces, and even a suit of an old-style military uniform.  
The jacket was navy blue with golden embroidery at the shoulders, and golden buttons down both sides of the torso. A white belt looped from right shoulder to left hip, and the red collar and cuffs matched the red sash tied at the waist. Below that it was a pair of remarkably undecorated grey trousers and knee-high boots made from sturdy leather.

She couldn’t guess its age or origin, but ‘old’ would suffice. Still it looked like it belonged to Lacroix, the size was right for his height and build. It was hard to imagine him as a soldier though; he didn’t strike her as the type who enjoyed being told what to do.

And speaking of Lacroix, he was seated and clearly waiting for her. He sat behind the desk at the far end of the room, one leg folded over the other, his hands folded in his lap, and his pale eyes were fixed on her. Behind him were three floor-length arched windows, framed by heavy white drapes, that provided him with a perfect view of the city folded out below him.

The Sheriff stepped away from Evie, taking up his position at Lacroix’s right shoulder, leaving her feeling somehow even smaller in the Prince’s gaze.

“I was informed of your presence in the building,” he began primly. “Since you’re here, I will take the liberty in assuming that you’ve destroyed the warehouse. This is correct, yes?”

“Yes, and I-”

“Most excellent. I had no doubt that you would prove my decision a prudent one.” 

He didn’t give her the chance to elaborate further, instead opting to lean back in his chair. His eyes swept over her, like he was evaluating and weighing odds. Then he continued, “I trust that you encountered no... impediments on account of my personnel?”

“The Santa Monica Kindred were a little two-faced, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle,” she replied noncommittally. 

Lacroix sighed and shook his head with a knowing sense of resignation, even as he missed the double-meaning behind her words.

“You have _no_ idea. Still, you’ve done well, circumstances being what they were. I will admit, not many in your position would have overcome such a trial. But don’t misunderstand me. It was no fool’s errand.”

That was an understatement, she thought just reflecting back on that night. Between Rhys, the thugs, and the explosion itself, it had gone from a quiet infiltration to a struggle for her life. She was under no illusion that it was ever meant to be simple.

“You may yet prove to be a genuine asset. It’s a bit disturbing, the lack of talent within this organisation as of late,” he commented almost conversationally. “Tell me, what would you say to doing a bit of reconnaissance for me?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Lacroix’s eyes narrowed and his lip curled ever so slightly downwards in disapproval. Evie’s stomach did a nervous flip in response, but she fought to keep her face neutral. Bored.

“Do not be so hasty to inflate your own worth,” he warned. “You’ve succeeded once - very admirable - but in the grand scheme of it all, an infant’s stride in progress. If you’re looking to make a name for yourself, listen very carefully.

“There have been whispers, rumours spreading around the Kindred community concerning the Elizabeth Dane, the cargo ship that was towed into port recently. Have you heard of it?”

She paused briefly then shook her head. There had been a lot of reports on the news lately, but she hadn’t had the time to watch any of them lately. The Anarchs had been keeping her busy the last few nights with disciplines and combat skills. Her spare time had been occupied with feeding and working on her infiltrating skills. Between picking locks and hacking laptops, she was getting better at this whole ‘breaking and entering’ thing.

But the tradeoff was that she was evidently falling behind on current events. She’d have to do some catching up on the Kindred gossip it seemed.

“The Dane was found out at sea. The reports say that it was without crew, but they have yet to report the fate of said crew. The police are investigating the Dane as we speak,” he explained brusquely. Then his eyes flashed. “Even the Nosferatu have little information on what’s been found, however, the reason the ship has caused such speculation is because it was transporting an object called the Ankaran Sarcophagus.

“Now, I’m not one to predicate a decision based on conjecture, so what I need is fact. And more importantly, I need evidence that the occurrences on the Dane were not supernatural in nature, and in no way relate to this ‘Ankaran Sarcophagus.’”

Evie frowned and folded her arms over her chest. He wasn’t explaining himself for the sake of gossip. He wanted her to perform another task for him.

“I thought our deal covered the warehouse job. Why do I have to go?”

The slight disapproval on his face twisted into outright displeasure. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his gaze became icy. It took every ounce of willpower that Evie had to not tuck tail and apologise.

“Should I repeat myself? I do believe I mentioned the fact that I bent the delicate laws that govern our society to allow you the chance to live. If that isn’t enough… I can give you another reason.”

Her body tensed and she swallowed hard on the lump in her throat, and could only hope it didn’t show. She set her jaw and shook her head.

“No. The deal was the warehouse, nothing more. I don’t owe you anything-”

Lacroix rose to his feet, his expression downright thunderous as he met her gaze, and she had the feeling that she’d made a terrible mistake. 

Somehow he seemed to become more solid, more real, and he towered over her despite only being a few inches taller than she was. The candles in the chandelier seemed to have extinguished themselves and the fire in the hearth guttered and dimmed in fear, and the moonlight from the windows cast long shadows that threatened to swallow everything that wasn’t Lacroix. 

Even the Sheriff, so detached and unflappable, took an wary step back from his Prince, who bore down on Evie, pressing in from all sides. 

Then, in a low voice that was far too deep to be his own, he uttered, “You. Will go. To the Elizabeth Dane.”

She nodded, trembling from head to toe as a terror unlike any other gripped her and forced her head to bow and her throat to bare itself in submission.

“I will go to the Elizabeth Dane,” she repeated back to him, as if that would spare her whatever horrible fate he had in mind for her.

And then… He retreated. He no longer filled the room or loomed over her. He was himself again, and he settled back into his seat.

“You have three objectives,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just been more threatening than the Sheriff just now. “One - I want you to examine the sarcophagus for anything unusual; you may sense something unusual about it. In fact, many Kindred in the city have reported an uneasiness in the air since the Dane’s arrival.”

His expression hardened.

“Do not, under any circumstances, open the Ankaran Sarcophagus. Secondly - the police have begun their investigation; find out what they have concluded thus far. Thirdly - take the cargo manifest for the ship; I want to find out what else it was carrying.”

“Anything else I should keep in mind?” 

He nodded curtly.

“The last thing we want is police aware of our existence, so… be careful what you do in front of them. And unlike the warehouse, you cannot wholesale slaughter a ship full of lawmen without consequences. Is this understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, and then raised a brow. “Oh, and it has come to my attention that you had an encounter with Nines Rodriguez earlier this week. The man so does love to throw that cretinous charm of his brashly about. What exactly did Mister Rodriguez say?”

She weighed her options on what to say. Nines had told her a lot since he’d picked her up on the outskirts of Downtown, and very little of it was favourable of the Camarilla. But Lacroix was obviously aware of that, and probably knew exactly what she’d been told based on her own behaviour and attempt to refuse him.

“A lot,” she said finally. “Maybe too much. I’m still figuring it all out.”

Lacroix didn’t smile or scowl, just observed her with that cool indifference that he seemed to wear most of the time.

“I see. Then let me give you a piece of advice - always listen to others’ words carefully. Read between the lines, gauge where you stand with them and who they decry or exalt. The more you know about someone, the greater your advantage.

“Now. I trust you’re prepared to leave for the Elizabeth Dane?”

If saying yes was her fastest ticket to leaving his office, she was all too happy to oblige. The Sheriff walked her back down the length of the room and back into the ante-chamber in resolute silence. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to him.

“Is he always like that?” she asked.

The Sheriff didn’t answer, just reached into his pocket and pulled out her weapons.

“Thanks.” She stowed them back into her bag. For a moment she hesitated, then asked, “do you have a name?”

He just stared down at her blankly then walked the length of the room to the doors leading back into the cavernous white room, and she knew she wasn’t going to get any answers from him tonight. And she didn’t fancy being on the sharp side of his blade, so she followed.

“Thank you,” she said as he held the door open for her.

She only received the click of them shutting behind her in response.

[]

A part of Evie entertained the idea of going straight back to the Last Round and telling Nines all about her meeting with Lacroix. Instead she found herself walking straight up to the nearest taxi and climbing in the back seat.

“Santa Monica,” was all the direction she gave, and the Cabbie simply nodded before pulling away.

She had no idea why she was doing this. She didn’t _have_ to. Nines and the others would have had thoughts on how to deal with Lacroix, but here she was, doing exactly the opposite of what Nines had advised, even if it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

The thought of defying Lacroix was simply too terrifying to _not_ do as he said, so for now she’d play along and get advice from the Anarchs when she was done.

The cab came to a halt outside the Asylum and she made a beeline for her haven. If she was going to search this Elizabeth Dane, she wanted to be prepared before heading out. 

It was still strange to think of the place as home, but it was the best she had right now. The building was silent as ever and she was starting to wonder if anyone actually occupied the other apartments or if she was Tripp’s only tenant. 

There was a layer of dust covering every surface inside - an indicator of how long she’d been gone - and it was chillingly cold. Not that it really bothered her with the whole ‘being dead’ thing. 

She dropped her bag on the bed and flopped down beside it. Her breath rose in front of her in a fine mist as she stared at the exposed beams and turned Lacroix’s orders over in her mind. She wondered how he expected her to get to the Dane in the first place; most likely she was supposed to speak with Mercurio and he’d give her a solution. But then there was actually getting the job done. He expected her to sneak around a ship full of cops, grab a cargo manifest and inspect this sarcophagus without killing anyone or getting killed in turn.

It felt like a very tall order, even after the mess with the warehouse. How she had gone from sneaking into clubs to _this_ , she had no idea.

Slowly she sat up and ran her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes. Something prickled at her senses, and she felt compelled to glance over at her desk.

Standing beside the laptop there was a rather ornate note, with M.S.T signed in calligraphy on the front. Frowning, she reached over. The Beast growled low in its metaphorical throat as she tentatively took it in her fingers, something cold prickling at her skin and in her blood. Something that reacted to her very being… And it dissipated as she slowly unfolded the letter. 

_At your convenience, please come and visit me in my home downtown. I leave you this to guide you:_

_Dark blood, our curse, a light this verse,_

_Such power I sense in one so young,_

_Come find me where burns the mystical sun._

_M. Strauss, Tremere Regent_

The letter was written in an elegant, deliberate handwriting that betrayed an unnerving unsteadiness. The vellum - as it was definitely not bog standard paper - was smooth and velvety under her skin, yet durable and strong. It wasn’t the sort of thing people used these days, especially not for the sake of a throwaway invitation. 

She carefully tucked it away into her desk drawer.

Another night, another Kindred wanting to meet her. She was starting to wonder if everyone in LA knew who she was. It seemed likely if everyone was talking about this Elizabeth Dane, why wouldn’t people be talking about her trial? Still, a Tremere Regent… It sounded like a fancy title, and that meant this Strauss was probably important, and they were in no way associated with the Anarchs.

She rose to her feet and stretched, standing on the tips of her toes as she pressed her interlocked hands up to the ceiling.

“Okay, first things first: visit Mercurio,” she said to herself, “and wing it from there.”

[]

As it turned out, going to see Mercurio was _exactly_ what Lacroix had expected her to do. He opened up the door when she knocked and grinned at the sight of her.

“Hey Kiddo,” he chuckled, grinning and looking much better than when he’d last seen her. At the very least he wasn’t bleeding out all over the room anymore, and the bruising had healed, leaving him whole and hale once more. 

"Hey Mercurio. You're looking better already." 

"I'm telling you, that blood you guys got is an amazing thing. And the cash you got for me from those beach junkies covered the back alley patch I needed. Speaking of which, I paid Dennis and his pals a visit. Seems they OD'd. Shame. Painful way to go." 

His eyes glittered with malice, and it was hard to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine as he said it. It was easy to forget that Mercurio could be perfectly dangerous when he wanted to be. A good reminder not to underestimate him just because he happened to be nice to her. 

Then, almost out of nowhere, he tousled the top of her head and made a mess of her beanie in the process. His grin widened at the bemused glare she shot up at him and he just laughed.

“Hey, what can I say? You really saved my hide, Kiddo. I truly appreciate you not saying anything to the Boss, y’know. And I look after my friends. You need anything - weapons, information - I'm your guy."

Evie nodded slowly and quickly refocused on the task at hand. 

“Speaking of ‘the Boss’, I take it you know what he needs me to do tonight?” she asked. 

Mercurio nodded. He stepped out of the hallway and locked the door behind him, then beckoned for her to follow. 

“I’ve got a ride set up for us at the beach; practically a dinghy but it’ll get us past the coastguard. You need to get on board and get to the security room. If my intel is solid - and it is - there should be cameras on most levels of the ship. Should make finding this sarcophagus thing a bit easier.

"Course you'll need to keep your head down, stay out of sight. You get spotted, the pigs won’t hesitate to open fire. They're on edge with everything that's been going on lately and it's given 'em itchy trigger fingers." 

Wonderful, as if she had any more reasons to hate being around cops. Shoot first, refuse to answer the questions later… and then wondered why people didn't trust them.

They stepped out into the cool, bracing night air, and Mercurio led the way to the parking lot down the street. His car was parked outside of Gimble's Prosthetics, and flicker of pain blossomed in the base of her skull and she turned away from the sign plastered on the nearby wall, and climbed into the passenger's seat as Mercurio took the driver's side.

It was a subtle vehicle, painted black and otherwise unmarked with worn leather seats that had been thoroughly clean recently going from the smell. There was a duffle bag on the back seat, but otherwise it was completely inconspicuous with no obvious identifiers that might make it stand out to the authorities.

The ride along the length of the beach was silent with Evie anxiously gnawing at the inside of her cheek as she was once again debating how on earth she was going to go about doing this. It felt like she’d had time to prepare for the warehouse. This time she really was going in the deep end. 

At least, she reminded herself, she was only dealing with humans this time. Unless she was horrendously unlucky, there would be no Sabbat, no ghosts, and no Malkavian sisters threatening to kill each other. This was just a matter of getting in, gathering some intel, and getting out again. Simple.

As if anything ever was.

Finally Mercurio pulled over to a narrow strip of beach that was deserted. A cold wind whistled over the dunes leading down to the sand, and a high tide lapped eagerly at the shore, erasing any evidence of a daytime presence. In the distance, Evie could see the twinkling lights of the Ocean House winking from its vantage point over the coast and she suppressed a shiver. Had Therese managed to rid it of the ghosts yet, she wondered before pushing the thought from her mind and turning her attention back to the matter at hand. 

She wandered from the side of the road through the grass that held the dunes together, and nearly tripped on the black dinghy that had been left waiting for them. It wasn’t particularly impressive, with a motor and little else. She eyed it warily. This was supposed to get them past the coastguard?

Mercurio grunted behind her and she looked over to see him shouldering the duffle bag before proceeding towards the dinghy. He dropped the back down and beckoned her over.

“Right, now I know the Boss said no killing, but-” He unzipped the bag and rifled through its contents. “-plans don’t always survive contact with reality.”

He pulled out three blood bags and held them out. She took them clumsily, somewhat taken aback with how he produced them so nonchalantly. Ever since her encounter with Vandal in the blood bank, she’d not put much hope in getting her hands on bagged blood again. She stowed them in her bag as he pulled out a pistol - smaller and sleeker than Therese’s sidearm and with a silencer attached to the barrel.

“Call it a last resort,” Mercurio explained as he pressed it into her hand. “If you get cornered and need to take someone out to stay undetected, don’t take chances. The Boss won’t like it, but it beats bringing the whole ship down on you.”

Then he pulled out a rifle.

“This is for me,” he added, noticing the flicker of horror on her face. “Just in case I get spotted.”

She swallowed and nodded. She didn’t particularly like the implication that he was certain that this was going to break out into violence, but after Santa Monica, it was becoming painfully clear that any number of things were likely to go awry. 

They dragged the dinghy down to the water, and hopped in just as the tide made to claim it. Mercurio revved the engine and it sputtered to life then roared into a steady hum as it began to push against the tide and out into the bay.

It was freezing, even for an undead vampire, and the salt spray whipped the pair viciously as the dinghy plowed against the waves. The coastguard were out in force tonight, scanning the water for any signs of approach, yet somehow they missed the vampire and the ghoul passing them by. It was like they were completely invisible, but Evie wasn’t going to complain if it meant avoiding more trouble. And soon enough the Elizabeth Dane came into view.

The ship sat anchored in the water, lit up with activity and as they drew closer, she could see the flicker of shadows moving to and fro across the deck, though their owners and the deck itself were largely obscured by cargo containers. But even from here, Evie couldn’t see what was so remarkable about the ship. It seemed to be intact from what she could see, no signs of damage or attack, and she could see the lifeboats swaying from their supports along the side of the ship that they were approaching, which meant the crew hadn’t evacuated. Whatever was going on, she would need to get inside to find out what had happened.

Mercurio drew up alongside the Dane, which was immense compared to their dinky dinghy, and he reached into his duffle bag. What he pulled out resembled a large black disk which he held by a handle. He held it to the side of the Dane and squeezed the trigger. 

There was a click and a heavy _thunk_! as the dish stuck to its side and stayed there, as if held by glue. Only then did Evie realise it was some sort of magnet device, and she wondered where on earth Mercurio had gotten it.

“Alright Kiddo, the show’s your’s now. See that ladder there?” 

He indicated a metal rung ladder that led up to the deck above, welded into the outer wall of the Dane.

“That’s your ticket on board. Find the security office and you’ll figure out the best way to get this job done. I’ll wait here until you get back or the cops come looking for me. All eyes are on you. Good luck.”

She nodded and slowly rose to her feet, trying to keep her balance as the dinghy bobbed up and down in time with the Dane, held in place only by Mercurio and his super-magnet. Carefully, she put a foot to the edge of the dinghy, checked her footing, fidgeted anxiously, then as the Dane dipped lower, she leapt for the ladder.

The steel rung would have been painfully cold for a living person, so it was a good thing that the cold didn’t trouble Evie anymore. It was slippery with salt spray, but she gripped tightly and reached for the rung above with her free hand, pulled herself up, and brought her feet up to the bottom rung. 

Slowly and carefully, she climbed the side of the Dane until she reached the top of the ladder. With the railing in reach, she pushed herself upwards and grabbed, hauling herself up onto the deck. 

Panting from the exertion - though she didn’t really need to - she glanced around and had her bowels still worked, she might have shat herself. Standing further along the deck, staring straight at her was a cop.


	10. Of Danes and Doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced into another task by Lacroix, Evie learns that there's far more afoot in the City of Angels than the Sabbat. And the politics are only the beginning.

In that moment Evie was torn between whistling, pulling the silenced pistol, or just flinging herself back over the railing and disappearing into the drink forever, never to be seen again. 

The cop stared hard at her with a piercing look, but he didn’t reach for his weapon or shout or do anything that she expected him to do. No, he instead glanced around, checking over his shoulder before waving her over.

Unnerved and unsure of what else to do, she walked over on stiff legs and hoped to god that this wasn’t just a result of the delirium of being shot or something. Though she had no idea what else could be happening right now. Any other cop would have called her in or shot her. This had to be some sort of weird death-based fever dream.

The cop took one look at her and sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Tell Jacobson that if he ever wants to make Editor in Chief, he needs to work with me,” he grumbled. “He can’t just be sending a damned high school reporter for a scoop like this. Did it even occur to you to even  _ try _ to disguise yourself?!”

Ah. Corrupt cop. Got it. He gave reporters some unauthorised access to high profile cases and got a cut of the profits when the headlines made a return. She could work with that.

“He didn’t exactly tell me what I was going to be covering until I got to the damn boat,” she hissed, gesturing vaguely across the deck. Then she shook her head and added, “look, I’ll worry about me, just fill me in. What’s going on and where can I get the best shots?”

He narrowed his eyes, but then did another sweep of the deck. They were all clear for the moment, hidden from view by the humming machinery housed on this level, and out of earshot.

“Just a sec.” He reached for the walkie-talkie strapped to his chest and depressed the button. “Heinz to Marsh, Heinz to Marsh. Marsh they need you up on the Bridge, over.”

He looked back at Evie.

“There, the Security Room should be clear.” He did another nervous sweep of the deck before reaching into his jacket and producing a sheet of paper. “I got you a copy of the initial report, but once you’ve got what you need from upstairs you need to make yourself scarce.” Then he added scornfully, “and no flash photography, brainchild.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she tucked the report into her bag.

“Right, where do I go?”

“Head down those stairs just there and stay low. Wait for me to call off the guy guarding Gangway A. As soon as he leaves, get your ass moving, and  _ don’t _ let him see you. I’ll give you a couple minutes but don’t dilly-dally. In and out, k?

“And seriously, don’t forget to stay out of sight. If anyone sees you, you’re on your own kid. Take the stairs up to the Security Room, they’re behind the first bulkhead on your left when you get inside. There’ll be a computer in there - the password is Lighthouse. Lighthouse. All one word, got it? Now get a move on, and make sure you tell Jacobson I get double my usual fee for this one.”

She nodded and wasted no time creeping down the stairs he’d indicated and crouched in the shadow of the machinery. The hum practically vibrated against her skull in a very uncomfortable manner, and made it hard to see clearly at first.

So far, so good. One of her objectives was already complete, and she was on her way to get her eyes on every corner of the ship, which meant that finding the sarcophagus ought to be easy enough. She just needed a copy of the manifest as well, and she was set. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so tricky after all.

Then she shoved that last thought to one side. No need to go jinxing herself. 

She prowled forwards and peered out around the corner to get a better look at the layout ahead of her. There was a single guard - the one that Heinz would lure away - and a bulkhead door to her right up ahead. From there she had to take the first left, head up the stairs, and get into the Security Room. Whether she could be in and out as promised was another matter.

“Heinz to Jacobso- Anderson. Heinz to Anderson, come in Anderson.”

The guard’s rigid posture dropped as he checked his radio.

“Anderson here, what is it?”

“Come check this out, I just saw a Baleen whale!”

Her stomach dropped.  _ That _ was his idea of a distraction?! Would Anderson really abandon his post for a damned  _ whale _ ? And what if he drew attention to Mercurio-?

“Seriously? Let me see!”

To her shock, Anderson did abandon his post for the promise of a Baleen whale and jogged down the gangway to join Heinz in peering over the rail. Still it was the opportunity she needed to get inside, so she took it and tried not to condemn every adult as a complete idiot as she did so.

Inside the initial bulkhead revealed a second door, which wasn’t entirely surprising. If something went wrong, you’d want to be doubly sure that nothing got in or out. It was what waited behind the second door that proved shocking, and she smelled it before she saw it. That alluring aroma of copper and iron that made her salivate.

Blood. A lot of it. Too much perhaps. It was like a scene out of every excessively gratuitous horror film that had ever been made. It was everywhere, splattered across the walls like paint and pooling across the floor, coagulating into a sticky red river that gleamed in the low light. The stench was overwhelming, yet stale. The blood had been here for a long time and had dried where it was thinnest. It was like someone had just torn open an artery and let it spray everywhere… and then done it several times over, such was the magnitude.

Evie clapped a hand over her mouth and nose as her stomach lurched in revulsion, and she had to fight the urge to vomit at the sight. The fact that it was everywhere… Someone, or something, had gone wild. Killing and tearing through anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path. The Beast yearned, just a mouthful, a drop, a  _ taste _ . She ignored it and tried to turn her attention to the hall beyond just the blood. There were two unmarked doors and then the hall turned off to the right- oh god, there was gore on the  _ ceiling _ too.

But, she realised, there wasn’t even a shred of flesh to be seen. No severed limbs, not trailing guts, nothing that Hollywood’s directors would be happy to throw all over place for the extra ‘gross’ factor. Not even a sliver of clothing. Whatever, or whoever, had done this hadn’t left a single body behind, and it didn’t look like the police had removed any from the scene. The dried, clotted blood looked completely undisturbed.

“Focus Evie,” she hissed under her breath. “In and out, remember?”

She gave herself a shake and nodded. Right. Security Room. First door on the left and up the stairs like Heinz had told her. 

Stepping around the pools of blood was easy enough, but Heinz could have mentioned that the door was locked. It wouldn’t keep her out by any means, but it would have been nice to know beforehand. What if she hadn’t known how to pick locks? What then? Maybe he’d loan her a bloody Baleen whale to throw against the door and bust it open, she thought sarcastically.

Regardless, she picked the lock, and the door gave an uncomfortably loud metallic groan as she pushed it open. Directly in front of her were the stairs that Heinz had mentioned that lead to the Security Room, and to her right was a door marked as ‘Records Room’.

Her curiosity was piqued, but she had to make the Security Room her priority. If Marsh came back from his bogus call to the bridge, she’d lose a crucial advantage in this investigation. She needed access to the security cameras if she was going to find the sarcophagus, so she headed up the stairs.

The Security Room was barebones with only a table in the centre of the room, a coffee machine to one side, and a bank of computer monitors overlooking the Dane’s deck. There was a maze of shipping containers out there like a sprawling metropolis of painted steel and patrolling cops, and she didn’t fancy her chances of sneaking through there undetected. She even spotted a sniper perched atop the stacks, scanning for any signs of intrusion.

Her stomach turned just thinking about trying to get through there unseen, so she approached the computer terminal and punched in the password. The console beeped in acceptance and a menu of options popped up in pale green letters.

_ Ship Functions _

_ Control Menu _

_ Available Menus _

_ Home _ _   
_ _ Reports _ _   
_ _ Log _

_ Available Commands _

_ Start Engines _ _   
_ _ Sound Horn _ _   
_ _ Deck Cams On _ _   
_ __ Unlock All Doors

Unlocking the doors sounded like a good idea, especially if it saved her time getting into the Records Room, and if she needed to explore the ship any further. The console accepted the command and informed her that it had been carried out as instructed. Only then did she turn her attention to the cameras.

Several monitors buzzed into life, displaying different shots of the deck from various angles amidst the confusing intersections of crates and from somewhere above her. There was more blood, and like in the hallway, it was everywhere, coating walls, flooding the floor. And just like the hallway, there were no bodies, save for the cops on patrol. She spotted them taking photos and blood samples on one monitor, and some others engaged in spirited discussion. Whether they were discussing the case or the results of some stupid sports game, she didn’t really care to guess either way.

The camera that proved most useful, however, overlooked a cleared section of the deck near the front of the ship. A massive shipping container stood with its side open, as though something had ripped its way through to the outside world, and left behind an ornate-looking sarcophagus.

Evie peered closer at the monitor.

That had to be the Ankaran Sarcophagus. It was covered with inscriptions and smeared with blood, and the cops had set up a defensible line surrounding it. Occasionally one would turn their head to get a closer look at it only to quickly back off and give the thing a wide berth.

The problem was that the image was grainy and the details were hard to make out. If she had to guess, it looked like that whatever was responsible for the violent expiration of the Dane’s crew had come from inside the sarcophagus. The question was: had it returned to sleep in there?

It felt like a question that was impossibly high above her pay grade, especially considering that she hadn’t even  _ wanted _ to come here in the first place. Was it worth confirming that the box had been opened from the inside?

Probably not. Lacroix hadn’t wanted it opened under any circumstances, and if the sarcophagus’ occupant  _ was _ responsible for the slaughter, then she didn’t want to be its next meal.

She shook her head and turned to leave the room. She just needed to grab a copy of the manifest from the Records Room and she could get back to Mercurio. In and out, like she had promised Heinz.

As predicted, a copy of the manifest was waiting for her in the Records Room. Or rather it was waiting for the Investigator leading the case, but the police could always write up another one. It was a long and lengthy list that she didn’t bother going over, she just stuffed it into her bag with her report before doubling back down the hall to the deck. 

Anderson and Heinz were still peering out over the water with Heinz briefly catching a glimpse of her as he performed another cursory scan over his shoulder. She flashed him a thumbs up and darted around the corner.

Mercurio waited below, still keeping the dinghy firmly aside the Dane.

“That was fast,” he commented as she dropped from the bottom rung. “Thought you’d need a couple of hours with all those cops crawling all over the place.”

She flashed him a grin.

“Lucky break. One of them thought I was a reporter he was waiting on,” she explained briefly. “Doubt he’ll be pleased when his payment doesn’t come through.”

Mercurio snorted.

“Damn pigs. Get paid better than most and they still want a little more on the side. At least I’m honest about it.”

He depressed the button on his magnet and with another  _ thunk _ it became unstuck and the dinghy rocked as it drifted from the Dane’s side. He waited until they were a decent enough distance away before powering up the motor and driving them back to shore.

“So, what did you see?” he asked. “Anything to the rumours?”

“I dunno. There was a lot of blood, but no bodies. And it looked like something  _ tore _ its way out of the sarcophagus’ shipping container. Maybe whatever killed the crew?”

Mercurio shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“And here I thought this city couldn’t get any worse,” he grumbled. “Last thing we need is some monster hiding in a box, waiting to tear us all to bits. Got plenty of those around with the Sabbat.”

As if the Sabbat were the only monsters in this city. Therese and Jeanette had been less than an inch from killing each other, a murderous ghoul had been carving people up for fun, a murderous ghost had tried pretty damn hard to kill her, and now these strange Cathayans were moving in and the locals didn’t seem to know much, if anything, about them except that they didn’t like Kindred. 

But he had a point. LA was a city packed to the gills with monsters, and she knew she’d only seen a sliver of them. They didn’t need some terrifying sarcophagus-dwelling horror adding to it.

Evie simply chose not to comment and instead let her mind stray for a while as the chilling salt spray whipped her cheeks and stung at her eyes, unaware of just how lucky, and unlucky, she had been tonight.

[]

_ “Police are now confirming that they suspect foul play in the disappearance of the Elizabeth Dane’s crew. There is evidence suggesting that the crew, or several members of the crew, were slain, though no names are being released at the moment.  _

_ “One piece in the Elizabeth Dane’s cargo was revealed as the Ankaran Sarcophagus. Discovered at a dig in Turkey, the Sarcophagus was on its way to the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History for a detailed analysis and exhibition. The authorities are expected to release the Sarcophagus to the museum in the next few days.” _

It felt a little strange, waking up in her nasty old bed and turning on the news like she hadn’t been living with the Anarchs for nearly a week. Especially when she knew she was off to report to Lacroix again. Hopefully her trip from Santa Monica to Downtown wouldn’t result in another Sabbat ambush.

If it did, she was better prepared this time.

She double checked her bag to make sure she had what she needed; a copy of the police report and the Dane’s cargo manifest. She’d also kept one of the blood bags that Mercurio had given her last night, while the others had gone in the fridge as part of her ‘emergency stash.’ Her weapons were in order as well - the machete, revolver, and silenced pistol were all carefully stowed out of sight - and her wallet was in her jacket pocket.

She pulled her beanie on and adjusted her braid before setting out for the night.

Once again she flagged down a taxi and directed the driver Downtown, to the Venture Building. He just nodded and away they went.

The drive gave Evie some time to reflect on her current problem: Lacroix. She’d tried to walk away as Nines had advised, but he’d somehow forcefully compelled her to go to the Dane. Namely by somehow putting the fear of God in her despite the fact that he wasn’t all that intimidating. 

It must have been some kind of discipline, and it bothered her that she didn’t know _what_ _kind_. The Anarchs had focused on getting her up to speed on herself. Other clans were an afterthought right now. She’d need to ask next time she saw Nines, and hopefully he’d have some answers. If there was a way to resist Lacroix, if resisting was possible, she needed to know if she was going to get away from him. Preferably in a way that didn’t involve him setting the Sheriff on her.

The taxi drew up outside the Venture Tower and she climbed out, thanking the driver before heading back inside. She greeted Chunk at the door, took the elevator up to the top of the tower and its disorientating hallways, and knocked on the office door. As before the Sheriff answered and ‘asked’ for her weapons before bringing her inside.

This time, however, Lacroix wasn’t alone.

There was a small gathering of people assembled around him, people who she would have recognised from her trial if she’d had her wits about her at the time. There was a tall bald man in a long red coat and round spectacles, an even taller Nosferatu in a black tuxedo complete with a crisp white shirt, a woman in a dazzling red ensemble complete with leather corset a slit skirt and a ruff of feathers that framed her head, and another woman in an dark blue lace dress. They stood in an arc, arranged around Lacroix who stood at his desk, listening with a pained intent as the woman in blue addressed the room.

“Alistair is not a creature of mere fancy as some of his kind may be, Sebastian,” she said sternly. “For him to cease all contact with any one of us is more than simply troubling.”

“I am inclined to agree with Lorelai,” the bald man concluded with an unnerving deliberateness, his head tilting to one side. “Dr Grout has long been a steadfast advocate of scientific evidence. He would not withdraw on a whim. Not unless he believed there to be a significant threat to his person…”

Had Evie been able to see his face, she would have seen a flash of accusation in the man’s eyes or the sidelong glance between Lorelai and the woman in red. As it was, she was only privy to the backs of their heads.

But she did see Lacroix, who looked as though he was developing a significant headache. 

“You never know, Max,” the Nosferatu interjected. “Those Malkavians have their brains all twisted up in ways we could never imagine. Who’s to say that the Good Doctor hasn’t simply found his way round the twist.”

He cackled, and it seemed that Lacroix had finally reached his breaking point. He raised a dismissive hand at the gathered Kindred, all while looking like he was resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve said all I need to for now,” he said tersely. “If you would all excuse me, there are other matters that require my attention.”

The four exchanged cursory glances among themselves before turning away from the Prince to leave. The woman in red - a Toreador - gave her a curious look, and the Nosferatu sniggered as his eyes raked over her. The bald man’s stride - deliberate and measured - didn’t falter, yet Evie couldn’t shake the notion that he’d analysed her as much as the other two had. Lorelai, however, just strutted past without so much as a glance and made a brisk exit.

Only once they were gone did the Sheriff motion for Evie to approach Lacroix who was looking very worn indeed.

“I don’t have time for a monologue,” he snapped before reigning in his tone and sinking in to his seat. “Just give me the bullet points of what you saw.”

“Well the crew was slaughtered but there were no bodies, and it looks like the Sarcophagus had been opened from the inside going from the bloody handprints.”

He blinked owlishly, his pale eyes going round.

“Opened? Let’s. Not jump to conclusions.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Give me the manifest and your notes, I’ll sort this mess later. You might have noticed when you came in, the parade of malingering mollycoddles filing out.”

“This involves me somehow, doesn’t it?” she asked bluntly. Why else would he draw her attention to the fact, if he didn’t have yet another task in mind for her?

“Those were the Primogen,” he said, sidestepping her question entirely. “The city’s clan elders. A worrisome bunch devoted first and foremost to the security of their own skin. Which is why they were here. It seems that Alistair Grout - the Malkavian Primogen - has either forgotten  _ how _ to answer his phone… or is missing.

“The Sabbat’s appearance has put the Primogen on edge. I need you to pry Grout out of whatever crack he’s crawled into and have him contact us.”

And there it was. Another task, another favour, despite their deal only covering the warehouse. From the Dane to a shut in, this was getting ridiculous. So she steeled herself, worked up every shred of courage she could muster, and scowled at him.

“You have ghouls,” she growled, folding her arms over her chest. “Tell one of them to go find Grout.”

Lacroix’s eyes became dangerously cold, but this time her nerve held and she held her posture.

“Each minor problem like a grain of sand. Each night I inherit the desert,” he said in a low, even tone that implied the danger behind it. “It’s the seemingly insignificant, time-consuming trivialities that plague my night - which is why, when I assign you a simple task, I only want to hear unbridled vehemence on your part. Understood?”

“No! Our deal was the warehouse. I went to the Dane, I got you your answers like you asked, and I don’t even know why! I’m  _ not _ your lackey. Get someone else to do it.”

He rose to his feet sharply with a snarl on his face.

“I am assigning you something that cannot be screwed up! Charitably! This is your chance to earn a small, but significant amount of my good graces back. I strongly urge you to accept.”

She ignored the instinct to quiver, to bow her head and bear her throat in submission. Instead she did as Nines told her and began to turn away.

“I strongly urge you to go fuck yourself,” she spat.

And then it happened again. Lacroix became more solid, more real, and looking away was impossible. He filled the room, his presence pounding down on her like a surging tidal wave.

“Go. See. Grout.”

Her insides coiled and froze like ice and that same damning compulsion wormed its way into her mind. Go see Grout was burned into her mind - a simple order, plain and clear - and she found herself unable to say no, even as she pushed back against it, trying to ward his words away. They were relentless, and nothing she did was enough.

“I will. Go and see Grout,” she growled between gritted teeth.

Lacroix receded and sunk back into his chair. Smug and satisfied.

“As I said, Grout is the Malkavian Primogen. His behaviour and home are… erratic, to say the least. He’s developed a paranoid bent recently, so you may have to check under every bed in the place for him.”

He then gave her a piercing look.

“When we hear from Grout, you may come back. Until then.”

Evie stepped out into the cold night air feeling positively miserable. She found herself fighting the urge to simply jump in the next cab and go straight to Grout’s place, even though she knew she had no other choice. One way or another, she’d have to go.

But she didn’t need to go immediately. The Anarchs, one of them would know something about all of this. Maybe Nines would have some ideas on how to proceed. And how to tackle Lacroix’s disciplines.

It was a plan. She took off at a jog in the direction of the Last Round, ignoring the niggling urge in the back of her mind that repeated over and over again ‘go see Grout, go see Grout, go see Grout.’

When she reached the bar, however, it was emptier than usual. A few of the usual patrons were hanging around, Fledglings who had a few weeks and months over her at best, and Jack was in his usual corner. But the bar was lacking its usual chaotic crowd that filled the place with energy, leaving it feeling somewhat drained.

“Hey Kiddo,” Jack greeted as she made her way over, stubbing out a spent cigar.

“Hey Jack. Where is everyone?”

“Sabbat assholes are still salty over their warehouse going up,” he snorted. “Damsel and Skelter headed out to push ‘em back some. Keep them off our turf. Woulda gone with ‘em but its all Shovelheads. Not as fun as the  _ real _ Sabbat. So here I am, holding the castle.”

He pulled out another cigar and struck a match. He barely flinched as it burst into life, and he waved the flame out of existence as he took a long drag.

“But where’s Nines?”

“Political b.s. Got the whole city shouting in his ear right now, and apparently there’s some shit over in Hollywood that old man Ahbrams needs a hand with. But what about you, Kiddo? No one’s seen you since you went to go report to Prince Piss last night.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she heaved with a roll of her eyes.

She quickly filled him in on her meeting with Lacroix, how he’d forced her to go to the Elizabeth Dane, and now wanted her to assuage the Primogen’s fears by checking in on Grout who’d apparently gone to ground.

“And I don’t even  _ want  _ to go!” she cried, throwing her hands up. “But every time I’ve said ‘no’,  _ he _ gets all ‘YOU WILL DO AS I COMMAND!’ and suddenly I can’t say ‘no’ anymore! Is it a discipline or something?!”

Jack gave her a sympathetic look. 

"Damn right it is. You've been Dominated, Kiddo. Ventrue just  _ love _ using it to get their way when their 'natural charisma' fails them." He snorted in disgust. "Bunch of picks." 

"So… what do I do?" she asked a little hopelessly, already anticipating the answer. "I tried to do what Nines said and tell Lacroix to fuck off but I can't do that if he can make me do what he says." 

"I know it's a hard spot to be in Kiddo, but right now you just gotta run with it. Once you're Dominated, you gotta let it run its course or you're stuck with Lacroix in your head, and that would fucking suck. Once you find Grout, tell him to tell Lacroix that you're done playing errand girl and get your ass back here. But be careful Kiddo."

His expression became uncharacteristically serious and he pointed a finger at her. 

"You were right to think a ghoul could handle this job cuz they could. Lacroix's sending you for a reason. Maybe to get you killed, maybe not, I don't know. But be prepared for anything to go wrong."

[]

Grout resided in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was vast in scope and surrounded by high walls and iron railings. It looked like it had been smaller once, only to be renovated and added to over the years, with a pair of towers jutting out of the top and large round windows that seemed to reflect the night sky. The front lawn was neatly trimmed and bushes sprouting bright orange flowers blossomed beneath the front windows. A gravel path led up to the front porch, and she could see faint signs of disturbance among the stones.

Evie tested the gate and, to her surprise, it was unlocked. It creaked loudly as she pulled it open a crack and slipped through. As she did, the front door opened and out stepped-

“Nines?”

She ran up to him, grinning, though he simply blinked at her in surprise.

“Uh…”

“What are you doing here? Wait, did Jack tell you about Lacroix and his stupid Dominate thing? I can handle it, you know-”

“No.”

She frowned and tilted her head, staring at him. His expression was carefully blank, but he couldn’t disguise the fact that there was no recognition in his eyes. He… didn’t know who she was.

“Uh… Are you feeling alright?” she asked tentatively, the warmth of relief rapidly ebbing away into the cold of night.

“You should get out of here, this place is bad news,” he said abruptly, jerking his head. Except the movement lacked his usual sharpness. The movement seemed to flow unconsciously, smooth and graceful, almost serpentine. Not at all Nines’ brash, no-nonsense.

This wasn’t Nines.

She glared at him and snarled, “who the hell are you-?”

“Pardon me.”

Not-Nines didn’t wait for her to answer and certainly didn’t give her one either. He pushed past her and vanished into the gloom, leaving Evie very much alone at the doorstep of Grout’s mansion.

Her stomach twisted. Part of her wanted to follow the impostor and find out who they really were, but the Domination was stronger. It urged her forward through the doors, insisting that she needed to find Grout. No matter what.

So she stepped inside.

The entrance hall was rather plain compared to the outward grandeur of the mansion. Black and white checkered tiles on the floor and white walls that were decorated with a golden fleur de lis pattern, and caged lanterns hanging from the walls that flanked the oak doors that led inside proper. Otherwise it was bare, empty of any furnishings. The most interesting feature of the otherwise featureless room was a round, golden rug bearing what seemed to be Grout’s family crest which bore a cracked hand mirror at its centre.

She listened intently but heard nothing. No footsteps, no voices, not even a heartbeat. She was alone, as far as she could tell.

“Hello? Mr Grout?” she called into the vast silence.“The Prince sent me to check on you. Are you here? The Primogen are getting worried about you, sir.”

She received no reply. She was but a ripple in the void, the brief break in the silence, and she remained unanswered. It was unsettling, but it meant she had no choice but to press on.

The doors yielded, creaking in the perfect silence, and allowed her entry.

The next hall was long, but the theme persisted. Columns with the heads of dragons held up the vaulted ceiling, and two halls led off to the left and right respectively. But at the end of this hall was a very interesting feature. A painting depicting an old man with blazing orange hair that twisted up from his head like…

Like a great fire.

Evie tentatively approached the portrait, which overlooked an alcove that was complete with chairs and an end table, upon which rested an old tape player of some kind.

The man’s long ginger hair fell around his shoulders, but locks of it indeed twisted across the canvas like flames. On the right hand side, the flames dissipated into a dark sky of twinkling stars. On the left, the sky was a bloody red, and darkened silhouettes were formed in the negative space the hair created. They looked like wolves, rearing up on hind legs to howl in fury.

If art was supposed to tell a story, Evie could honestly say that she had no idea what Grout was trying to convey here. So she turned to the tape recorder. It looked like it had already been used to record something, and she wondered if perhaps Grout had left it here for a reason. Perhaps he knew someone would come looking for him, sooner or later.

She pressed the play button. The recorder clicked and clacked, and for a moment there was the clicking of machinery waking up and coming to life before a burst of static introduced Grout himself.

_ "It is quite peculiar the happenings I've been made to witness from my supernatural longevity. I'm thinking of one unfortunate phenomenon in particular of unique interest to my station... both as a professional and as a sufferer of this vampiric condition. It seems the stream of time has begun to erode the moorings of my chosen course of study... for the methodologies that gave birth to psychology are slowly disappearing.  _

_ “I find myself in an era that overlooks the physical component of psychological pathology time... and again in favour of the sophistic practices of Freud. Phrenology, dactopindalism, and the rest of the old guard is fallen by the wayside... its champions all silenced in death with my unique exception.  _

_ “Would that I could make my voice heard again although it may be suspicious... should I return to popular medical discourse fifty years after my apparent death. No, better that I continue my studies into the psychosis in secret. One day may I hold up my own cure as validation of the methods.  _

_ “I am confident no cure for my condition or that of my beloved wife lies within our figurative minds... waiting to be unlocked by the correct combination of memories recovered from our childhoods. And I'm most certain that it has nothing to do with the relationship between myself, my parents, and my genitals. Sorry, Sigmund, but I choose to stay my course. In time, too, may your star fade and disappear." _

The recorder fell silent once more and Evie frowned. Not exactly a message then, but some of Grout’s own musings on his work. Most of it meant little to her, but one thing had caught her attention. Grout had been working on a cure for vampirism. To restore a vampire to their mortal state.

Was that even possible, she wondered, considering that to be a vampire was to be a dead thing? It seemed unlikely, but Grout had believed in it. 

She decided to keep an eye out for any other tape recorders. Maybe they’d give her a better idea of who she was meeting, and if he’d had any luck with this cure of his. If going back  _ was _ possible… Was there anything she  _ wouldn’t _ do for such an opportunity?

The left hallway led to a locked door, so she tried the right hallway instead. There was another locked door on one side, but the one at the end of the hall opened into the kind of library she  _ wished _ she had time to explore.

There were two levels to the library, and nearly every wall was lined in bookcases that were entirely filled, and above was a domed skylight that gave a perfect view of the moon above. The only exception was the space directly opposite the door leading inside. There were three lights protruding from the wall, evenly spaced apart with bookcases, armchairs and end tables between them. And all but one of them was turned off.

For all the world it looked like a dead end. There were no doors leading off from this room, and there were too many books to try pulling on all of them to find out if any of them were a mechanism.

No… The lights were the most out of place thing here. If Grout liked riddles and puzzles, he’d have to make them findable so they could test his guests. So she inspected them.

The rightmost light had - interestingly enough - a brain engraved into the metal holding it to the wall. The centre light had an hourglass, and the leftmost light had an eye. On the end table there was a note, written in looping handwriting.

_ Perception at once shapes the mind and rules over time. Time, however, erodes human perception and then in turn warps the mind. The Mind is capricious, having various effects on Perception, Time, and the Mind itself... with harmony progress is made. _

She frowned and read it over again. 

“Perception over Mind and Time… Time over Perception and Mind… Mind affects all three… Harmony makes progress…” she murmured. “If the brain is the Mind, and the Eye is perception, then Time is the hourglass…”

She turned to the lights and reached for the leftmost light; Perception. She gave it a tug and with a click it acquiesced. The centre light switched off, and the rightmost light turned on. She tugged it again and they returned to their prior status. Mind and Perception off, Time on. If she had to guess, her goal was to get all three lights lit.

She mulled on it a little, looking between all three lights and puzzling it out in her brain before she hesitantly tried Perception onces more and then pulled the lamp marked as Time.

All three lights winked on at once, and somewhere in the far distance, she heard a distinct  _ cer-chunk! _ and a squealing of hinges.

Beaming with delight, Evie spun on her heel and sprinted back out of the library and into the hall. The door in the left hallway had indeed opened, leading into the next chamber. The black and white tiles remained the same, but this room’s walls were dark red. On her right there were three sets of doors, and another set directly opposite her. To her left was a flight of stairs that - quite literally - went nowhere. In fact they went right into the dark wood ceiling.

The room was void of furniture once again, leaving only a cavernous, empty space. Save for a single end table and another tape recorder.

_ "Another unfortunate casualty to tide of time: insane asylums. I lament their loss not only as brokerage houses for the breadth and depth of human psychoses... but also I shall mourn the disappearance of that peculiar environment present only in an insane asylum. That palpable atmosphere of blistered brains and churning bowels... the odiferous melange of freely flowing bodily humours... that gently rolling cacophony of distant sobs and screams... the muttered cursing of perceived enemies and the blissful gurgling of the lobotomized... like a newborn babe discovering the sky. _

_ “I shall still find test subjects as surely as I find bloody sustenance in the night... but this climate, I fear, may never be replicated." _

Ah, so he was twisted. Good to know. Evie suppressed a shiver just listening to the nostalgic delight in his voice as he described the terrible suffering of others in places that time now only remembered as places of cruelty and a sickening lack of humanity for those who were ‘treated’ there. How lucky Grout was that he was a doctor.

Suddenly any cure of his seemed incredibly unappealing.

Her footsteps echoed off of the walls as she wandered the length of the hall. The doors on the right were all locked, as was the lone door at the end. The only thing of note was a single light in the wall, just like the ones in the library.

She gave it an experimental tug and the ceiling  _ moved _ . Segment by segment it rolled, like the exoskeleton of some ungodly insect rising from its slumber. The noise rang across the walls, the clicking of wooden panels shifting swiftly becoming deafening even as she clapped her hands over her ears. And it didn’t stop until a gap peeled open at the top of the stairs, suddenly rendering them functional.

Silence fell once more, settling like a dense and very uncomfortable blanket. She had her way forward… but something in her gut told her that she wouldn’t like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again already? I know, I'm surprised too XD Apparently finishing that last chapter gave my an itch to keep writing, so here I am. We'll see how long I can keep this up.
> 
> Thank you all for the feedback as always, it is my absolute lifeblood and very much appreciated. You may notice that I am doing some tweaks to Grout's mansion to make it a little more... tasteful. That being said, Grout still has his test subjects, so be prepared to see some of them next chapter. Hopefully they'll be more sympathetic and less 'scary crazy people.'


	11. Purging Doctor Grout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie continues her pursuit of the illusive Dr Grout, and comes face-to-face with one of her most dangerous foes yet.

_"My studies proceed at a languid pace. I'm mired in a foul ennui as my wife's illness advances. My subjects grow restless without proper supervision... but I cannot pull myself back from this black depression. How many nights I've wasted now gazing from the tower walk, pondering the frailty of existence."_

Even now Grout’s words seemed to echo behind Evie as she stood out on the tower walk in his place, looking out over the city sprawling out below her under the night’s dark canvas. The wind tugged at her hair and nipped at her skin, but she was otherwise untroubled and alone for the moment.

It was eerie how empty Grout’s mansion was, and yet she had no choice but to continue searching until she found some trace of Grout besides his scattered musings that he had left lying around the place to be found. Even now she wondered if they were supposed to be a trail or if he’d just left them that way on accident. Busy mind, busy hands, not much time for organisation. Except there seemed to be an order to them, proceeding from one point to the next, and that didn’t strike her as entirely random.

Malkavians were a clan marked by madness and insanity, and it took many forms according to the Anarchs. Most regarded them as raving lunatics and little more, but so far the only Malkavians that she had encountered proved cunning, intelligent, and perhaps even more capable than the other Kindred she’d met. And while they weren’t wholly sane people, they weren’t the mindless fools that some of the Anarchs took them for. Of that there was no doubt.

Finally Evie tore her gaze from the city and continued her way along the tower walk. Had she only looked down, she might have seen someone looking back at her.

Evie proceeded down the second tower, ears still straining to hear some kind of noise. She heard only her own footsteps on the metal steps however and nothing else. It was like the place was entirely abandoned.

The next major room she came across was a green hall, described for the dark green walls that caused the light of the lanterns to turn green and give the room an eerie haunted feeling. The silence only added to the atmosphere.

She crossed at a brisk pace, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as her steps echoed off of the walls, making it sound as though hundreds of people were inside the room rather than just one. It didn’t help that she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

The doors at the far end of the Green Hall belied a stunningly ordinary room with a pair of cushy armchairs, a fireplace flanked by a pair of mirrors, and a coffee table with a waiting tape recorder sat squarely in the centre. 

With some reluctance, Evie pressed the play button.

_"After decades of solitary study into this affliction I have learned that it is by no means mine alone. Indeed, the city is home to an entire society of similarly afflicted individuals with whom I've only recently made contact. They are an understandably standoffish sort, by and large, but I have been able to confirm with them that the condition is indeed vampirism which apparently comes in a multitude of strains, each with a spectacular set of symptoms such as invisibility and even a sort of lycanthropy._

_“Through numerous official interactions with the governing body of this secret society I have concluded that their fundamental understanding of the vampiric condition is woefully lacking and mired in suspicion and pseudo-religious dogma that would make a Turk balk for its strictures. Indeed, they seemed impressed with my studies and the eloquence with which I was able to present them. Apparently the typical sufferer of my particular strain of vampirism is far from the vanguard of the king's English._

_“So impressed were they that they even offered me an office in their government. A rather high office by the sound of things. I believe I shall accept. If nothing else, it should provide a lofty vantage point from which to observe the breadth and epidemiology of the afflictions so that I may move more expeditiously toward a cure.”_

She blinked. Grout had spent _decades_ not knowing he was a vampire? Or that other vampires even existed? He had obviously suspected enough before he met the Camarilla, but even so to have gone so long, always prepared to be wrong about his own diagnosis… It boggled the mind.

Evie looked around the room for some clue of where to go next. There were no other doors, no switches to pull or riddles to direct her, but this had been the only way forward. She ran a hand over the wall and then noticed something unusual as she faced the mirror. Namely the lack of her reflection.

Vampires had reflections, that much Evie knew for sure. She’d been seeing her’s everywhere - in the mirror, in windows, in puddles. If it reflected things, she could see her face in it. So either that had suddenly changed since she had arrived, or this ‘mirror’ was no mirror at all.

She quickened her search and ended up pausing in front of the fireplace with its empty hearth. 

There were three circular carvings set into the stonework and gave no resistance when she tried pushing on one of them. In fact, it sunk into the brick and there was a loud _click_. The other two followed suit and the back of the hearth began to move just like the ceiling of the Red Hall had, clicking in segments as it parted and opened the way into the opposite room.

Evie crawled through, feeling quite pleased with herself, and then straightened up with a cursory brush off for any soot. There wasn’t any, though she guessed that Grout hadn’t had much practical use for a fireplace in years.

The Mirror Room led into a narrow, bending hallway that was littered with locked doors. By now, she was starting to learn to ignore them unless a mechanism she found could open it. 

At the end of the hall was an archway that was blocked by a heavy wooden panel that had a switch in the back. She flicked it down, and the panel shifted, revealing the library once more, this time leading her to the second level.

“This place really is a twist-about-shite-of-a-maze,” she murmured to herself. 

This floor had an alcove just like the lower level, with the same puzzle and all. Three switches and a riddle, as well as another tape recorder. Evie switched it on while she worked on the puzzle.

_"I have accepted the role of 'primogen' for clan 'Malkavian,' the dreadfully winsome label applied to the particular strain of vampirism I suffer. So named for some supposed vampire father figure of old more poppycock grown from a backwood culture that seems interminably drawn to childrens' tales and the fiction of Victorian romance when it should concern itself with the science behind their suffering._

_“No matter, for I have taken this office for no greater reason than to advance my research. I must make mention however that even among my would-be peers in this governing body of vampires the level of paranoia and superstition is frightening! Their intelligence is not the question, no, indeed, as they courted me for this appointment I had to suspect that their overtures were hand-tailored to what must be my obvious infatuation with reason for the devil would do well to have such honey-tongued tempters._

_“Even so I could not help but notice the dressing of language these vampire leaders chose for their siren song. Whether it is born of habit, from addressing their unwashed ill-educated subjects or from their own deep-seated beliefs their linguistic flourishes belie a faith in superstition over the providence of empirical reason that must be an all-pervasive theme in this society of darkest night. Damn it all now, I'm doing it, too!"_

On the floor below there was a _cer-chunk!_ and Evie glanced over the railing just in time to see a bookcase swing open to reveal another secret passage.

“It’s not just the language that gets complicated, it’s the houses too,” she mused to herself before leaping over the rail and dropping down to the floor below.

The passage she had uncovered was unlike any other she had seen so far in the house. Whereas every other room had been carefully tiled and wallpapered, this passage was all stone. And for the first time since she had arrived, the silence had been broken by a persistent hum that she quickly recognised as machinery of some kind. Maybe a generator. Perhaps she was headed for the mansion’s powercell.

She crept through the dark, the broken silence now unnerving in this strange, twisted house where everything was interconnected in ways she struggled to keep up with. Even now she had no idea where she was headed, what she would open next, or if she was even getting any closer to Grout. His silence was growing stranger by the minute, considering how much he loved to hear himself talk with those tapes littered all over the house.

Between that and the fake Nines she had encountered outside, she was wondering if she’d been sent on some wild goose chase, or if Grout was even really here. He had to know something was amiss if he was. Had to know that someone was solving his riddles and completing his puzzles.

Something was definitely wrong, and here she was trying to get to the bottom of it all because Lacroix wanted someone to check in on the Good Doctor.

The stone passage eventually led to a very bizarre room that she could only guess was some kind of torture chamber because there was no way it was usable as anything else. Pylons of live electricity ringed the room, which had eight sides and a switch for six of them. The other two were occupied by the entrance - where Evie stood - and the exit, which was barred by the electric bolts. 

A charred corpse lay on the ground, evidently having been the for a while and was missing an arm. She had to wonder if it was the test subject that Grout had mentioned, John, who had gnawed off his own arm in order to escape under the floorboards. A sad fate to end up here at all, much less die like this.

Carefully, Evie navigated her way between the pylons to reach the switch closest to her. With any luck there was no puzzle to this besides ‘don’t get hit by lightning.’

The moment she threw the switch, one of the pylons powered down and the electricity flowing on her left side was shut off, allowing her to reach the next switch. One by one, she threw the switches, careful to keep off of the steel rails that were guiding the bolts to the walls, and one by one the pylons shut off until the way forward was safe and clear.

She wasted no time in pressing onwards until she reached another door and a switch in the wall. She pulled it, preparing to throw herself through the door if it was a mistake or a trick. Instead she just heard the heavy grinding of gears and clicking of mechanisms and the distant clicking of a heavy lock lifting from a door.

When she emerged from the passage, she was back in the Red Hall, and the door at the far end which had previously been locked now stood open, inviting her inside. It was rather irritating actually. All that effort to unlock one door.

“Next time,” she muttered, “I’m going to shotgun it open.”

The house could only reply in echoes as she crossed the threshold.

The ground sloped downwards, leading her into the mansion’s bowels. The air turned from chilly to freezing the further she went, and she was sure she could see her breath misting up in front of her. She didn’t need to shove her hands into her pockets, but the all-too-human urge overcame her and she did so regardless.

By the time she reached the bottom of the slope, she couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t wandered into some sort of giant refrigerator with how cold it was. There was, oddly enough, an armchair stood in the centre of the room with yet another tape recorder occupying the seat. How neither of them were coated with frost was beyond her. 

_"As I expand my dealings with the vampire government, I have encountered a disturbing new symptom of this affliction. Frequently, in conversation, I will hear voices emanating from other vampires. Voices that are not their own, but which seem to have insight into their lives beyond what I could gather from simple conversation. These voices seem to echo from deep within my fellow vampires and I cannot be certain if this symptom belongs to my strain of the illness or theirs for the voices are various and inconsistent._

_“I dare not mention this symptom to my vampiric peers, for they have proven themselves true predators to whom I could be loath to reveal any sign of weakness. Indeed, these voices have counseled me against confessing their presence and until I can confirm their source, I will listen. The information the voices have given me ranges from curious to frightening. The latter case is especially true of one powerful vampire whose name I shall not commit to recording in the interests of self preservation."_

Well that was interesting. Someone within the Camarilla scared Grout. Someone with a lot of power. Lacroix? Maybe. As annoyed as she was with her situation, it would be a misstep to underestimate him. He had power - he was a Prince after all, and he had enough power to conquer a person’s will. But would _Grout_ fear him?

Knowing as little as she did about the other Primogen, it was all speculation. And then there was this Strauss character who had invited her to visit them. They could be this powerful vampire that Grout feared enough to not name.

For now, she might as well assume that he found all of them frightening. Frightening enough to hide himself away like this.

She pressed on deeper into the subterranean levels of the house when the silence was suddenly shattered by a blood curdling scream that made Evie’s blood go cold. Without pausing to think, she ran in its direction, her blood racing.

She flew around a corner, threw open a pair of double doors and found herself in a long, dark hallway with flickering lights and… doors. A lot of doors. And not like the ones upstairs, these were cell doors.

Finally the screaming petered out into raw, gasping sobs that came from behind the door closest to her. Carefully she edged her way forwards and peered in through the viewing window.

Inside was a woman who couldn’t be much older than Evie herself, huddled up in a ball and sobbing into her knees. She wore grey sweats and a black t-shirt that looked too large on her skinny frame, and even from here Evie could see the half-healed track marks of needles riddling her arms. One of Grout’s test subjects.

“Hello?” Evie called tentatively. “Are you okay?”

The woman’s head snapped up and she stared at Evie with huge, terrified eyes. She looked absolutely gobsmacked and in mere seconds was scrambling to her feet, stumbling for the door.

“Please, please you’ve got to help me!” she pleaded, her voice ragged and raw. “Please, he’s going to kill us!”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Evie said soothingly. “Calm down, I can help you.”

“Help? Yes, yes. I-I need help,” the woman whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Please, I just want to go home, I don’t want to drink anymore.”

“It’s okay, you won’t have to stay here anymore,” Evie said, keeping her voice calm and even. “Can you tell me your name?”

The woman nodded and sniffed, her dull, lifeless hair hanging limply from her head. Her skin was pale taut over her bones, and she looked almost skeletal under her clothes.

“I. My name is Amy. I-I don’t remember how I got here. I just, I remember the doctor. He said- He said he needed- He took my blood, he made me drink his, I don’t want any more blood, please don’t make me drink!”

She grew increasingly frantic with fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she pawed desperately at the door.

“Please, let me out,” she sobbed.

Evie didn’t need to be asked again. She pulled out her lockpicks and worked at the lock, and soon enough it clicked open. Amy could barely wait to claw her way out through the smallest possible gap, staggering past Evie, gasping for air like she’d been drowning.

“I… I’m out?” she murmured. She turned to Evie. “I can go home?”

Evie nodded.

“Head through those doors, and then round the corner. When you find the armchair, head up the slope into the Red Hall, and straight through there. When you’re at the portrait, it’s a straight shot down the hall to the front door,” she explained.

Amy nodded numbly and wasted no time on thanks. She just bolted in the direction she’d been pointed as fast as her legs could carry her.

[]

The other cells had held more of Grout’s test subjects, but while some craved freedom as Amy had, others weren’t so easily coaxed. They remained huddled in their cells, broken by whatever cruelties Grout had bestowed upon them in the search for his precious cure. Others were aggressive enough that Evie left them were they were. She wasn’t equipped to handle violent prisoners, not without someone getting hurt or worse. Maybe, once this was sorted, she’d drop an anonymous tip with the authorities and see if they sent someone to deal with the situation. She doubted the police would handle it much better than she could, but it felt wrong to just leave these people entirely.

Once most of the cells were emptied, only then did Evie move on through the mansion. She began to rise once more, and so did the temperature. When she reached a room that wasn’t a lab or a cell, she discovered another recording left by Grout.

By now she had dispensed of any notion of caring for the man, but she had to admit she was curious as to the vampire he feared. So she played the recording.

_"The voices have increased in frequency and direction of late. They have begun to stay with me long after conversation has ceased and are serving as quite a distraction. I fear others are beginning to notice my preoccupation at the vampire gatherings. I'm thinking again of the particular vampire of whom I spoke previously who I dare not name for my growing fear._

_“If the voices are to be believed, then my caution is warranted for they speak of his blackest crimes both past and future. More than once I have seen the suspicion in his eyes and heard the distrust in his voice when speaking with me! The fear must register on my face as it is all I can do in these moments to keep from crying out in chorus with the voices!"_

Grout wasn’t going to be naming this vampire any time soon, it seemed. Fear gripped him entirely and it was eclipsing all else. Whereas before his tone had always been even and near-monotone, the paranoia was all too evident. And now she really had to wonder… if Grout had seen this vampire’s future crimes as well as his past ones, did he know she was coming? Had he left these here for her to discover? Perhaps not her specifically, but the person he knew would come. If he had some sort of insight into the future like Rosa did, he might have had some idea. Maybe.

She proceeded onward and upward, ever moving up through the mansion until she was sure she was back above the ground floor again. And soon enough she had arrived at a grand set of oak doors with a tape recorder lying in front of them. Something told her that it was the last one, and she wondered if she even wanted to hear its contents.

Something in her gut told her she had to. That it would provide some clue as to Grout’s whereabouts. He had definitely left it to be discovered, just as he had left the rest. From start to finish, he had ensured that she would know his story by the time she arrived.

With some trepidation, she pressed play.

_"I am no longer safe - I know it! The voices have proven themselves authentic, and I have withdrawn from the vampire society entirely. My absence will no doubt draw attention, but I could no longer hold my fragile composure around the ravenous eyes of my vampire peers, especially not around him!_

_“The voices compelled me to make what I fear is a Faustian bargain. But I had to, for their demands are constant and merciless. I have secluded myself within the mansion. I know he will strike out at me. He will go to any length to achieve his ambitions, and he knows that I know!_

_“I have taken precautions to protect my beloved wife. A cure will have to wait until our immediate safety is guaranteed. The mansion was constructed with security in mind, but at that time I was not privy to the full range of vampire capabilities! The voices echo in the twisted corridors of my psyche, dark whisperings of a macabre and formless menace, the approach of which portends an end, an end to all of this!"_

A Faustian bargain? She’d heard the term before but never really understood it beyond it being a deal struck in an act of desperation. Maybe she’d look it up some other time. 

As to what kind of bargain Grout had made, she could only guess. Had he gone to someone for protection? The Sabbat maybe? Or had he struck a deal with something else, something she couldn’t even imagine the likes of.

Either way, Grout had laid out his story from start to finish, but it didn’t tell her where he was. No doubt he’d want to contact the Primogen Council or Lacroix, not if the vampire he feared was among them. And while she quite enjoyed the idea of having a good reason to never go back to Lacroix on the grounds that Grout would never contact them ever again, the impostor she’d met outside worried her. 

She needed to be absolutely certain as to Grout’s fate, and there was one last place to look for him.

She pushed open the double doors and stepped into the room beyond.

It was… actually Evie didn’t really know what words could describe this room. It was a beautiful, octagonal space, decorated with pillars and drapes, and each alcove house a glass bell jar with some sort of important keepsake inside. Roses, photographs, certificates, all sorts of things a person might want to keep safe for sentimental reasons. But the centre of the room was where things took a disturbing turn.

There was a glass column that reached from floor to ceiling, and inside, suspended in fluid, was a woman. She had long, flaming red hair that was fanned out around her like flames, and her head was turned upwards to the ceiling, her arms held out like wings. She was draped in a long black dress that was decorated with white patterns up the skirt, depicting stars and moons and other iconography. She was beautiful… but it was hard to believe she could be alive.

This had to be Grout’s beloved wife…

Frankly if any love of her’s tried to shove her in a tube, she’d hit them and run. He couldn’t have just let the poor woman die in peace, could he? Maybe she had felt differently, maybe others would, but there was just something that was unspeakably _creepy_ about it.

Evie wondered if she was even conscious in there, but decided against trying to ask. She just moved on through the double doors that led to what she hoped would be her final stop in this nightmare house.

She shouldered the door open and stepped into the room beyond. It seemed she’d found the master bedroom, complete with a desk that was riddled with bits of old-fashioned medical equipment, a cabinet, and a bed-

She did a double-take at the bed. Chains had been fastened to both ends, and on the mattress lay a skeleton, its wrists and ankles held by the manacles, a stake stuck through its ribcage, and ash piled up beneath the bones.

Grout was dead.

“Oh come off it,” she cursed. “All of that and he doesn’t even have the decency to be alive?!”

Lacroix wouldn’t let her hear the end of this. He’d been counting on her to reassure the Primogen that LA was safe, and that there was no need for concern. Instead she’d have to bring back evidence of their worst fears. And that impostor, the person who’d somehow looked and sounded exactly like Nines-!

Oh god. They were going to blame Nines. Even if she tried to keep the truth from Lacroix, Nines had been in Hollywood tonight, Jack had told her that. Someone would have seen him, and it wouldn’t be a huge leap to accuse him of murdering a Primogen, not when he made his politics quite clear.

No. She had to tell Lacroix about the impostor, and make sure he understood that it hadn’t actually been Nines. If she said nothing, there would be no one else who could defend him. God, nothing could be straight-forward could it?

But even as she turned to try and figure out how to even go about leaving this stupid maze of a house, an explosion rocked the earth. She stumbled and fell, flailing to grab a bed post to keep herself from hitting the ground.

Once she was upright and the world had stopped shaking, she sprinted for the doors and emerged onto a balcony overlooking the Red Hall. Except it wasn’t just red because of its wallpaper anymore. It was on fire, and she wasn’t the only one looking down at it.

“Grout, lay low and be cleansed by the flames!”

A man with a thick German accent stood on the opposite balcony, wearing a long, khaki-green trench coat and military fatigues; his face was hard and weathered with a long scar distorting his features, and he had long grey hair he wore in a ponytail. A rifle was strapped to his back and he scowled at Evie.

“Grout’s already dead,” she shouted back at him. “Someone else beat you to it!”

Confusion, anger and disappointment crossed his face in rapid succession before he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Grout is dead? A pity it could not be by my hand! No matter!” He waved her off dismissively. “Soon your self-made kings and false prophets, and all others who bear the mark of the Beast, will be washed from the Earth, for the coming of the Lord!”

She scowled back at him, all too aware of the spreading flames below her that would easily destroy her if they were to reach her.

“Who the hell are you?! Some crazy priest or something?” 

“As you burn, tell them it was Grünfeld Bach who sent your damned soul to the lake of fire! All agents of Satan shall return to whence they came! Let this righteous display serve as a display to all who serve the archfiend Lacroix! I am coming for you, Lacroix! By the power of the Lord, I shall cleanse your black soul!”

“Be my guest!” Evie barked back. “You’ll be doing me a favour by killing that bastard!”

But Bach didn’t waste another word on her and didn’t retort. He simply turned and vanished through a doorway at a quick march, leaving her very much alone as the fire continued to burn its way through the house, and the sudden gravity of the situation hit her.

This place was coming down, and the only exit she knew of was cut off by flames. And the way behind her was no good. It was time to run and pray she found a way out.

She steeled herself and leapt from the balcony, and hit the ground running. From the Red Hall into the Green Hall, the fire was spreading fast as Evie sprinted for dear life, no longer keeping track of where she was or where she was going. None of the paths she knew were helpful, or the ways the rooms interconnected because none of them led _out_. And out was what she needed.

Through the Green Hall and through some more doors, whipping round a corner and taking the flight of stairs two at a time, her legs pumping furiously and her blood pounding in her ears.

The stairs led to hallways that snaked their way across the upper level of the mansion and through to a foyer that was filled with flames. Acrid smoke rose from below, carrying the stink of burning flesh. Her stomach turned, but she tried not to picture Amy and the other captives having been burned alive. They hadn’t deserved _that_ fate.

So she kept running, letting herself ignore what her nose was telling her as she sprinted the length of the balcony until she reached an archway that led into another narrow, snake-like hallway that twisted and turned irregularly. 

There was another blast that rocked the mansion, and Evie found herself staggering into a wall as she tried to keep herself from falling. Another blast, and another. Bach had to have help, and they weren’t hesitating to hit the house with everything they had. Which meant he’d probably escaped by now.

‘Or he might be dead, the bastard,’ she thought viciously as she straightened up and continued running. ‘That’d be nice.’

She sniffed on instinct. A waft of fresh air blew through the smoke, positively tantalising with its promise of freedom. Without pausing to question, she bolted in its direction at top speed.

It had come from a window that had been left open only a crack and Evie didn’t even stop to think her next steps through. She just barrelled her way through the glass at top speed, a splinter of a second before an explosion went off in the room behind her. The heat bit at her back and the force flung her well past the mansion’s walls. She hit the road hard enough that, had she still been mortal, it would have broken bones and the skid would have flayed flesh and muscle with ease. Instead she bounced and skidded across the tarmac into the bushes at the side of the street.

For a moment she lay there in the dirt, breathing hard and trying not to think about how close to Final Death she had come just now. That blast… the flames must have hit a gas pipe or something. Just a second later and she’d have been dead for sure.

Grünfeld Bach. Whoever he was, he’d been out for Grout’s head but he hadn’t had the pleasure of claiming it. Someone else - the Nines Impostor - had clearly been responsible. Which meant that Grout was destined to be a dead man, one way or the other. And that meant whatever bargain he’d struck hadn’t paid off in the end. He was dead, his beloved wife was too, and his home - his unlife’s work - was ashes. All to strike a blow at Lacroix.

What puzzled her then was the impostor. Whoever they were, they’d looked exactly like Nines, right down to the cut of his beard, but they had known nothing of his mannerisms. The way he ticked, the little gestures and movements he made without thinking. And Nines had hardly been a shut-in like Grout. People knew him, recognised him, it wouldn’t have been hard for a Kindred to hang around and observe him from a distance and learn to be him.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaned, which made the centre of her chest ache deep. Her ribs complained in turn, sharp and hot before dulling somewhat as her blood tried to repair the damage.

There was so much she just didn’t know. All she could say was that someone killed Grout to get to Lacroix, and in doing so snatched the opportunity out from under Bach, who was definitely aware of what Grout had been. Just like he knew what she was.   
Was he a hunter then? It made sense that _someone_ had noticed all the vampires running around, and decided to do something about it. Before all of this it might have been a comfort. Now she was just painfully aware of the fact that she was now another target to be hunted down and eradicated.

And if he hadn’t died in the fire, and if he hadn’t been alone, lying in the dirt was like waiting for him to find her and stake her for the sunrise.

Tentatively, she picked herself up. She was covered in soot, dirt, and blood sweat again, and her clothes were a torn and tattered mess from where she’d been scraped over the tarmac. Her head was bleeding, she was covered in scrapes and bruises… honestly she was lucky it was only this bad and not worse. A bit of blood would fix her up well enough and maybe only leave her a little sore afterward.

She had to get back to Lacroix and let him know that Grout wouldn’t be calling any time soon, someone pretending to be Nines was probably the killer, and that a German with a hard-on for Jesus wanted him very much dead.

So she set off at a hobble, away from the burning house, and in search of the first taxi she could find.

[]

Lacroix’s lips pursed when he saw Evie shuffle back into his office, charred, filthy, and bloody. His nostrils flared but his eyes remained cold and indifferent as she approached with the Sheriff at her shoulder.

“The Primogen still haven’t been contacted by Grout,” he said coldly, impatience colouring his tone. “I thought I had made it quite clear that you were not supposed to come back until we had heard from him.”

“Then tell the Primogen to hold a seance, because that’s the only way anyone’s hearing from Grout again,” Evie sneered. “Someone killed him, and-”

“Grout’s dead! What?!” Lacroix snapped incredulously. “Explain!”

“Yes. Dead. And some bastard called Bach set the house on fire, just to be sure.”

“Bach?!” He scowled and turned his gaze to the ground at his side, hatred burning in his eyes as they narrowed and his nose wrinkled as if he’d detected a particularly foul stench. “Every time I think he’s lost the scent… So, Bach killed Grout to draw me out.”

Evie shook her head.

“Bach didn’t get to Grout first, someone else did,” she snapped. “Believe me, he was real broken up about missing the opportunity-”

“Do not take that tone with me Fledgling!” Lacroix interrupted coldly, his eyes snapping back to her. “Bach is a hunter. They stalk and kill our kind to appease their God. But like many mortals, their so-called faith is nothing but a conduit through which they quench their killing urges. Who else could have killed Bach?!”

She glowered at him, seething with a barely suppressed rage. Given everything that had happened these last two nights, her patience was badly frayed and was rapidly thinning.

“Well if you’d let me finish-”

“Let you finish? With whom do you presume you are speaking?!” he snapped harshly.

“I saw someone who looked like Nines leaving the mansion,” she pressed on, doing her best to remember that the Sheriff would took her head off if she lashed out. “But when I spoke to him, I realised it wasn’t actually-”

He cut her off again as he went completely rigid and held up a hand. His pale eyes were alight with something that was not hatred and they were not coldly indifferent. It was hard to tell _what_ it was… She couldn’t read him.

“Look at me,” he said in a low, even voice. “Are you _sure_ it was Nines Rodriguez? Because if it was, the consequences… Do you know where this might lead? Do you really have any idea?”

The temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped several degrees, and she frowned. Her head was throbbing, but she was _sure_ it hadn’t been Nines… right? No, she remembered. He had looked like Nines, but hadn’t moved like him, hadn’t talked like him. 

She shook her head.

“It looked just like him but… he. It wasn’t right. I don’t.” The throbbing in her head grew more painful, building behind her eyes, and her vision swam. “Something wasn’t right,” was all she managed.

Lacroix’s back straightened and he folded his hands behind his back.

“Under most circumstances, I would declare a Blood Hunt on the murderer immediately. However, the Anarchs of this city may interpret such an action to be a declaration of war. I do not want war with them. The decision will take some time.”

“But I told you, it wasn’t-!”

He waved a hand and, frustratingly, she fell silent.

“I will need to confer with the Primogen on this. In the meantime, I have come to a decision on the Ankaran Sarcophagus, and I believe that for the safety of the inhabitants of this city, we need to place the Sarcophagus under Camarilla protection, until its contents can be confirmed.

“You’re becoming quite indispensable to me - so, out of all my available personnel, I’m going to entrust its retrieval to you. It was quietly delivered to the Museum of Natural History a few hours ago.”

The part of her telling her to nod her head and play along until he dismissed her cracked and fell quiet as a louder, angrier part of her grew increasingly impatient. She opened her mouth to respond, to tell him where he could stick his Ankaran Sarcophagus and his Primogen, but he beat her to the punch.

“The manifest from the Dane shows there was a small box from the same dig on board, but it was listed as missing. Keep an eye out for it, it may have been overlooked. It’s crucial that we get the Sarcophagus into our possession before anyone else does-”

“No.”

He blinked and once again a very dangerous expression crossed his face.

“I beg your pardon-”

“Then beg,” she snarled. “You told me to go to the Dane, I said no. You told me to go see Grout, I said no. You want me to go to the museum, and I’m telling you: **no**! Try and Dominate me again, and we’ll see how much good your friend here does you when you’re a stain on the ground outside!”

A freezing silence settled over the office as danger transformed into outright fury. Lacroix slammed his fist against the desk as he leaned across the desk to look her right in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was filled with cold rage and venom, and held about as much contempt for her as she had for him.

“I have methodically calculated a solution to each dilemma thrust upon our community-”

“As if you’re even a part of it, you poncy twat.”

“-and I don’t have the time to paint your tiny mind its place in the big picture for each and every instance. So either perform your function, or _get out of my sight_.”

Time slowed to a sluggish pace as Gangrel and Ventrue stared each other down with pure hatred. The Sheriff had a hand at his blade’s handle, ready to lunge if needed. Luckily for him, he wouldn’t have to.

Evie levelled her cold scowl at Lacroix, and then stood straight and let every bit of venom, contempt and hatred pour thick over her tongue so that there would be no mistaking her.

“ **_Fine_ **.”

And without another word, she turned on her heel and marched straight out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, that was satisfying to write


	12. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cast out of the Camarilla, Evie has to figure out what she plans to do with her newfound freedom.

No one paid much mind to the ragged seventeen year old sprinting through the streets of Los Angeles, even though she looked like she had been dragged backwards through a bonfire and beaten with a bat. They just passed her over as she skidded around a corner and dove into a back alley, her legs pumping hard as she beelined straight for the Last Round.

Blood thundered in her ears and she could taste it in her mouth. Her whole body  _ hurt _ , her head, her chest, her legs, everything, and yet she couldn’t stop running. She had to find Nines, had to warn him about the danger he was in because Lacroix had refused to listen to her.

As she staggered out of the alley mouth, she had to stop and pause and give her body a much-needed break. The Beast was twisting in its cage, hissing and snarling as the pain rattled its bars. She was just so drained, so exhausted, so  _ hungry _ . The few mouthfuls of blood she had stolen in the cab ride from Hollywood hadn’t been nearly enough, and now her fraying nerves were making everything worse.

If anything happened to Nines now, it would be her fault for even mentioning him to Lacroix. Damnit, she should have just lied and said she hadn’t seen anyone but Bach. Let the old hunter take the blame and leave it at that. 

The thought made her eyes burn, and she swiped away the bloody tears threatening to drip down her cheeks. Instead, as she dragged air into her chest, she checked her surroundings. 

To her relief, she wasn’t far from the Last Round now. Just a straight shot up the street and she’d be home safe, and hopefully Nines would be back from Hollywood. If not, someone would know how to contact him. He had to hide before Lacroix could declare the Blood Hunt.

So she resumed her sprint, barrelling headfirst down the street and not giving a damn how she looked to anyone.

Finally the bar came into view, and relief sunk into her chest like shards of ice biting into her skin. It was a sharp, cold contrast to the all-consuming panic she’d felt after walking out of Lacroix’s office, and it numbed some of the burning ache that gnawed away at her.

She skidded at the door, her momentum nearly carrying her too far and her feet nearly slipping out from under her. She seized the door handle and all but spilled into the room, barely staying upright.

“Please tell me Nines is back!”

Heads turned in mild interest towards her but it was Skelter who answered.

“He just got back,” he replied, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the stairs. Then he raised a brow. “What the hell’s got you so worked up Kid-?”

She was already taking the stairs two at a time and so she ignored the question entirely. Nines was in his usual spot, looking a little worn and ruffled by a night’s hard work, but the exhaustion on his face was quickly replaced by concern as Evie appeared at the top of the stairs and her condition became apparent. 

“Kid, what happened-?”

“You have to go. Now!” she burst out in ragged breath, and she braced herself against her knees. “Lacroix he- He’s going to call a Blood Hunt!”

Silence fell over the Last Round in an instant. The music system pounded away, but Evie could hear all conversation stop below her feet, and could have  _ sworn _ she felt heads swivel in her vague direction as the Anarch patrons turned their attention to the upper level.

Meanwhile Nines’ eyes had gone wide with shock. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then he marched over and took her by the shoulders to straighten her up, and swiftly began inspecting her, taking a catalogue of her burns, scrapes and bruises.

“What happened?” he asked firmly as Damsel stormed over.

If her default expression was ‘pissed off’ then right now she was on the verge of ‘raging frenzy.’

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Cammy?! Even Prince Piss can’t just go and declare a fucking Blood Hunt for nothing!”

Nines held up a hand and silenced her before turning his attention back to Evie just as Jack and Skelter came upstairs to find out what was going on. 

“Evie. Take a breath,” he said firmly, and she did as she was told, swallowing on some of her own blood as she did. “Now. From the top: what’s going on?”

She explained as best she could between lungfuls of breath, from running into the Impostor Nines to the mansion going up in flames at the hands of the fanatical vampire hunter. Her conversation with Lacroix would have made them proud if the result hadn’t been so incredibly damning for Nines.

“And every time I tried telling him that it wasn’t you, that I  _ knew _ it wasn’t- It was like I  _ couldn’t _ ! My head just hurt and focusing got really hard and- I  _ tried _ to tell him but he wouldn’t  **_listen_ ** !”

“Fucking knew it,” Jack growled. “Lacroix either gets the Kid killed, or gets a perfect patsy for framing Nines. Either way, he wraps up one of his problems.”

“Fuck that, Lacroix knows he can’t call a Blood Hunt on Nines without starting a war,” Damsel interjected, her lips twisted into a snarl. “Especially when Cammy’s word is their only proof. There are plenty of Kindred who saw Nines in-”

“In Hollywood,” Skelter cut over grimly. “Between the Kid’s account and that fact, the Primogen Council won’t give a shit about proof. It’ll be enough to justify the Blood Hunt. And there are enough Thinbloods in the city for Lacroix to permit a little ‘legal Diablerie.’”

“Diablerie?”

“Vampire cannibalism,” Nines explained darkly. “The Cams love to preach about it being an unforgivable sin, but the minute a Blood Hunt comes around it becomes a carrot to wave in front of the Thinbloods and convince them to risk their skin so they can get a little stronger and stand a better chance of surviving.”

For a moment none of them said a word. Damsel fidgeted on the spot, fists curling and uncurling at her sides as she rocked on the balls of her feet, clearly itching for something to hit, while Skelter and Nines both looked like they were deep in thought, the former crossing his arms over his chest as he chewed at his lip. And Jack was… well. Jack. He just glanced between the others as if he was just waiting to hear what their plan was, as if he was just an observer in all this.

And Evie just ached deep in her bones and wondered how much of the blame was about to be dumped on her for this.

Finally Nines lifted his head.

“We knew this was gonna happen sooner or later. ‘Specially after that courtroom spat,” he sighed. “Dam, you remember the place we talked about?”

She nodded.

“You sure about that? Not the safest place to go, y’know,” she pointed out, crossing her arms.

“That’s the idea,” he said with a wry grin. “You and Skelter’ll keep an eye on things for me until shit blows over. Jack, try not to get any of the kids killed-”

“I only promise that  _ I  _ won’t get ‘em killed, the rest is on them,” Jack said defensively.

“-and Evie. Don’t blame yourself, k?”

The surprise must have shown on her face, as Nines gave her a tired but warm smile and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“You did what you could, and you told Lacroix to go fuck himself. That’s a win in my book.”

She tried to return the grin weakly, and he patted her shoulder before turning back to Damsel.

“Keep your nose clean until this is settled, Dam,” he added. “The Cams are angling for a war they know we can’t win right now. Don’t give them any ground on it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she huffed. “Just. Don’t go getting yourself killed out there Nines.”

He just smiled - god he really did look exhausted - and disappeared down the stairs. No one said a word as he left, and the door shut behind him with a resounding click. But it was only the revving of a motorcycle engine that faded into nothing that really made it feel ready.

Nines was gone.

[]

The ride back to Santa Monica went by in a bit of a blur. Evie wondered how many of the Anarchs were pissed off with her right now. Their leader had been forced to flee to avoid losing his head because of her stupidity. The stupid little Fledgling that Nines had rescued twice was the reason he would soon have a price on his head. 

And he would have a price on his head; there was no doubt about that. Lacroix was nothing if not an opportunist. He’d never pass up the opportunity to get rid of one of his greatest rivals and she’d handed him that opportunity on a silver platter.

It was why she was heading back to her haven despite it being so close to dawn rather than staying at the Last Round like she might have done otherwise. Nines had told her not to blame herself, but how could she not? She should have just stayed quiet and let Bach take the blame for Grout’s death, why did she have to go and open her stupid, stupid mouth?

It took a great deal of effort not to cry, lest the Cabbie see her bloody tears crawling down her cheeks. She really didn’t need to be dealing with a panicked mortal on top of everything else right now.

Finally the cab rolled up outside the Asylum. It was raining as it always seemed to in Santa Monica.

She made a beeline for her haven, zipping through the back alleys towards Tripp’s pawnshop, not pausing to give anyone a chance to notice her beaten up, bloody appearance. She just wanted to get home and go to bed, and maybe wake up to some good news for once.

She mounted the stairs, the torn skin of her thigh complaining noisily as she climbed, until she reached the top. And for the first time since she’d arrived, someone was waiting at her door. Someone she had never expected to see again.

“Oh, there you are! Um, I-I know this might be kind of creepy, but please, don’t blow me off!”

She blinked, stunned for a second as she found herself face to face with the red haired woman from the clinic. The one whose life she had saved on her very first night as a vampire. Except this time she wasn’t dying of blood loss on a table but standing there anxiously, fidgeting with her hands.

“Someone told me you lived here. I’ve been looking for you ever since- since that night,” she explained hurriedly, as if the words couldn’t be said fast enough. “I- I’m in your debt. You saved my life.”

“Oh. Oh, it was no trouble,” Evie said as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She scratched the back of her neck. “I’m glad to see you’re looking much better.”

“Only because of you. What you did.” 

There was something about her expression that Evie just couldn’t gage. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Her body language, her voice, they both betrayed anxiousness and worry, but her eyes. There was something about them… Something… Hungry.

“I want to help you. I owe you my life and… I feel like I need to repay you. Oh, I almost forgot - I’m Heather. Heather Poe.”

"Uh, Evie." 

She swallowed hard, glancing at her apartment door and wishing she could vanish inside. But Heather was an obstacle who evidently didn’t plan to remove herself anytime soon.

"Uh, listen Heather. I really appreciate you wanting to help and all, but I really need to be uh. Off to bed. Long night and all."

She could feel the fatigue of dawn beginning to drag over her and she would prefer not to fall asleep in the hallway as it was. She wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with Heather. Maybe she was just trying to thank Evie, but something about her was off.

But when she tried to slip by to the door, Heather stepped right into her space with an air of desperation and Evie's heart rate leapt. 

"Wait, please don't go! The effect you had on me made me want to live! It's all because of you! You saved me life. Please, let me be of use to you! I'll do whatever, I don't care! I- I've never felt this way about somebody before!" 

**_RUN!_ **

The instinct was overwhelming, and Evie wasn't about to disobey it. She shoved Heather away as panic took hold and stole her way through the door, bolting the lock behind her. 

"Wait! Please, you can't do this!" Heather wailed, hammering from the other side. "Please, I want to stay, I want to be a part of your life! Don't! I need you!" 

"Go away Heather! I'll call the police if I have to, just leave me alone!" Evie yelled back, her heart hammering in her chest as fear gripped her. 

It was an empty threat. If she called the police they’d identify her as the girl who had died a couple of weeks ago. Or they’d want her to come to the precinct in broad daylight, and she’d be ash in the wind. She had no weapons either - the Sheriff had taken them from her and she hadn't taken them back before leaving Lacroix's office, and the overwhelming urge to sleep was threatening to pull her under. She was at the brink of being vulnerable and helpless, and she couldn't imagine a simple lock keeping Heather out forever. 

Her phone buzzed: a reminder that dawn was on the approach. It was getting hard to keep her eyes open, even as Heather pleaded through the door. 

Evie ran over to the windows and started boarding them over even as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do before this got out of hand. 

"Evie, please, I want to help you! To take care of you! You're too important-!" 

"I don't even know you, please just go away!" Evie yelled back, even as she trembled from head to toe. The last board slotted into place and she holed herself away against the back wall of the bathroom. "You don't owe me anything just go away!" 

"But I-!" 

There was a pause. 

"Who are you? A-are you-? I was just trying to-!"

She trailed off and Evie wished more than anything that her bathroom actually had a door so she could lock herself inside and wait for everyone to stop and go away and leave her alone.

"Okay. Fine. I'll go," Heather suddenly declared through thick tears.

There was the tell-tale clicking of heels disappearing down the stairs and the distant opening and closing of the door leading out of the apartments, and Evie had to resist the urge to collapse against the sink.

She was gone. The danger had passed. She had no idea if Heather really would have been an actual danger, but she'd set off too many alarm bells to risk it. No. Better she was gone and uninvolved in her life, for her own sake as well as Evie's. 

There was a knock on the door and she jolted back into alertness. Right. Someone had made Heather leave. Though she'd been so focused on the immediate threat that she'd not heard anyone else enter or even another voice. And she was so tired… 

Still it was best to know who it was who had sent Heather away, so she cracked the door open. To her surprise, she found herself looking up into the blank, pupiless eyes of the Sheriff himself.

“Uh… you made her go…?”

He nodded once. It was the most reaction she had ever gotten from him.

“Oh. ...Thank you.”

She pinched the inside of her lower lip between her teeth, unsure of what to think. The fact he was here at all made her worry that Lacroix had sent him. But he’d sent away Heather and wasn’t attacking her so had he come for some other reason?

With his usual sense of deliberateness, the Sheriff reached into his inner pocket and produced-

“My weapons?” She looked up at him. “You came to give them back?”

He nodded again. With some small sense of relief she reached into his hand and took them; the revolver, the machete, and the silenced pistol.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

Another nod.

“Well, I need to head to bed now,” she said. “Are you going to be able to get back Downtown before sun up?”

He didn’t answer, just turned and walked away back down the stairs. He had to stoop so that his head only just brushed the ceiling, and then he was gone.

Evie locked the door again, dropped the weapons on the bedside table, and then promptly collapsed onto the bed. 

That, she thought to herself, had been too much to deal with in one night. A Primogen dead at the hands of an impostor, a vampire hunter, Nines going into hiding, a very strange woman trying to repay her a life debt in a very strange way, and now the Sheriff going out of his way to return her weapons?

This might just be the strangest and most chaotic night of her unlife so far, and she’d blown up a warehouse after ridding a hotel of a murderous ghost for a woman who shared her body with her sister. 

And now she had no idea where she went next. She was free of Lacroix’s leash now. No Camarilla to tell her what to do, no suicide missions or near death experiences. It was strange to suddenly be without direction.

Well, aside from the invitation from Strauss. Maybe following up on that wouldn’t be a bad idea. There was still so much for her to learn and understand. It was worth looking into, at least, if she could solve the riddle they’d left.

And maybe now that she was free of Lacroix, she could get in touch with Sam again. That’d be nice. She had missed her pretty badly, and Sam could keep a secret. If there was one person in the world she’d trust with this vampire thing, it was Sam.

She nodded to herself, even as she yawned and curled up under her bed sheets as the day sleep finally overcame her.

Yeah. Seeing Sam again would be nice.

[]

It was strange coming back home after everything that had happened. Just a few weeks ago, she’d have been running up the steps after school to drop off her stuff, say hi to Sam, and then be off again to find her friends. She’d spend time hanging around on the stairwell, or milling in the courtyard, or staring out of her bedroom window, debating if it was worth risking a climb out onto the roof.

Now she felt like a stranger. Like she didn’t belong here anymore. 

But before she even had a chance to let herself inside, her instincts screamed at her,

_ HIDE! _

She darted into an alley and pressed herself flat against the wall before daring to peer out.

A man in a dark coat had just stepped out from the door leading through to the courtyard; he had short, dark spiky hair, a beard that ended in a sharpened point, and he wore shades despite it being the middle of the night. He paused to scan his surroundings, and for a horrible moment it felt like the shadows had awoken around her and pressed in, crawling over her body, like they were trying to figure out who and what she was.

To avoid panicking she focused on the man, letting her blood focus at her ears. Only then did she realise that he had no heartbeat, and the chilling realisation settled over her: he was Kindred.

But if he knew she was there - and she had no doubts that he did - he did nothing about it. Instead he took off down the street at a quick march without so much as a backwards look, and as he did, the shadows fell away, inert and harmless once more.

Frowning, Evie exited her hiding place and watched him vanish around the corner. She wondered who he was - she’d never seen him before - and what he had been doing. Had he been feeding? Or did he have some other purpose?

Sam immediately came to mind, and her stomach turned. She immediately headed inside and took the stairs up, ignoring the broken-down elevator as she always did.

She liked the stairwell, how the noises bounced off the walls and ceilings. Sometimes Sam would sit there and sing whatever tunes came to mind, and it always left Evie imagining a siren singing her haunting song out at sea. Except instead of foolish sailors, Sam’s voice attracted curious neighbours who stuck their heads out of their doors to listen.

But as it was, those memories were far from her attention right now. Right now, she had to be certain that Sam was okay and that the mystery Kindred she had seen outside hadn’t been here to prevent exactly what she was trying to do.

A bittersweet nostalgia twisted in her gut as she arrived at the door. She tested the handle. Locked. And when she knocked there was no answer.

Heaving a sigh, Evie pulled out her lockpick and made short work of the lock. Sam would forgive her for it. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to let herself in in such a fashion anyway.

The apartment was pitch black and silent, and a quick check with her senses revealed no heartbeats, no blood, and nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed that, for the moment, no one was home. 

Disappointment lodged in her chest but was swiftly accompanied by its odd bedfellow of relief. It meant that there was a good chance that Sam was alive and well, just not here for the moment. So Evie ventured further inside.

Very little had changed in the last few weeks. The throw on the sofa was crumpled and the tv was dark and cold. The kitchen island was littered with newspapers, though none of them were the typical LA Sun that most people read. Rather they looked to be some sort of underground magazine, and one of them had her face printed on the front. She swallowed, her stomach twisting harshly as she stared back at herself before tentatively flipped through to the page telling the story.

**_Savage Mauling or Brutal Murder?_ **

**_Remains of Local Teen Discovered Behind Hollywood Club_ **

_ Welcome back readers. I’m sure you’ve all been shaken up by last week’s discovery; in the early hours of Friday morning, October 20th, the remains of a murder most foul were discovered on the back door of the Asp Hole, a Hollywood club owned by the famous - or perhaps infamous - Ash Rivers, the star (and heartthrob) of Negative Zero. _

_ Local teenager, Evie Byrne, was like any other the previous evening. Having been caught entering the club despite being underage - and honestly, who didn’t at that age - Evie was ejected from the premises only to be savagely mauled to death in the alley behind the club by what the authorities claim to have been the work of a wild animal. _

_ But was it? I for one, don’t think so. _

_ When was the last time anyone heard of a mountain lion roaming the streets of Hollywood, and slaughtering the first person it apparently came across? Or a feral dog that could make an entire corpse disappear? The police claim they have ample evidence proving this to be the case, we have discovered that this just isn’t the case, my friends. _

_ Indeed, several witnesses reported that the last time Evie was seen alive, it was during an altercation with a harasser who’d reportedly been seen stalking her in the club before she was ejected from the premises. Is it truly such a stretch to believe that this same stalker would brutally murder his victim?  _

_ The LAPD seems to think so. Within twenty four hours, the crime scene was cleaned, the search ended, and the case closed based on evidence that is, at BEST, circumstantial, and not truly indicative of what happened that night. Police Captain, Thomas Berke, has refused to comment on the swift course of the investigation, citing that there was nothing more to discuss and that further inquiries would result in the detainment of our brave reporters. _

_ So, a week on, where are we left? A wild animal attack of cold-blooded homicide? Well my dear readers, perhaps it would interest you to know that on the night of the murder, a man matching the description of Evie’s Stalker, was witnessed bundling a covered object into the backseat of a vehicle that we were able to track to the Brothers Salvage Junkyard in Santa Monica. And that significant bloodstains were discovered on the back seat. _

_ That’s right, readers. We aren’t looking at some wild animal attack but a  _ **_homicide_ ** _. The witness who brought this information to our attention granted us a brief interview: _

_ ‘I saw just getting ready for bed with my husband when I spied the fella through the window. I’d have ignored it usually, but something compelled me to watch. He was a tall fella, maybe about 6’1” with blonde dreadlocks, y’know the kind hippies wear that are all ratty and horrible. Looked like he had a rat’s next on his head.  _ _ Anyway, he was carrying something wrapped up in a black tarp that he put in the backseat of his car - it was a beat-up silver thing with a license plate that read [REDACTED FOR READER SAFETY].  _

_ 'He puts it in the backseat, and he looks real nervous, checking to see if anyone spotted him. I had to step back from the window, I was so scared he might see me because I just  _ **_knew_ ** _ he was up to no good. And when I looked back out, he was driving away.  _

_ ‘When I heard about the murder the next day, I went straight to the police about what I’d seen, but they didn’t want to hear a word I said. They’d already made up their minds that that poor girl had been killed by some wild animal, but I knew better. I know it was him, and I’ll tell you right now, he’s going to do it again. No normal person murders an innocent girl like that and decides to give up murder for good!’ _

_ Indeed they don’t. So readers, what are we supposed to do? How can we trust the police to protect us when they refuse to listen to an eyewitness with crucial information? First, remember how our trusted witness described the killer. _

_ White Caucasian Male, 6’1”, Blonde Dreadlocks. _

_ Be on the lookout for anyone matching this description. Don’t venture out alone at night, especially in Hollywood where the danger may well be greatest, and DO NOT let your children out past curfew! If you do see this individual, REPORT HIM! Do not attempt to engage or provoke this man, as he is  _ **_proven_ ** _ to be extremely dangerous! It doesn’t matter if the police believe he’s a murderer or not, if enough people file in reports, they  _ **_have_ ** _ to act! Only by being vigilant can we prevent another needless tragedy, and maybe get some justice for poor Evie! _

_ Next week we have an interview with Samantha Dearth lined up, the guardian and close friend of Evie Byrne, who has filed charges against LAPD for their atrocious handling of this case, so be sure to pick us up again to get the latest updates on our investigation. And remember to stay safe out there! _

Evie dropped the magazine.

One day. They’d investigated her death for one day before declaring it a wild animal attack and closing the case. She had to draw a deep, trembling breath as she leaned against the counter, processing what she’d just read.

Well, at least the people of LA wouldn’t need to worry about her murderer. He was even more dead than she was. But a single day… That was all the LAPD had spent on her. She knew that cops were bastards, but why the hell would they-

It clicked. The Camarilla. Of course. They’d probably put some money in the right pockets and got the case hushed up before anyone discovered that Evie Byrne was dead but still very much walking around LA. 

What perplexed her then was the fact that no one seemed to have recognised her. Had the media been purposefully told not to use her image? To keep anyone from recognising her on sight? This magazine - the Public Whisper - didn’t seem to be keeping to the program though, and Sam seemed to be cooperating with them. And she wasn’t buying the official story either.

That cheered her up a little. Sam had never been one to lie down and let something go when she knew there was more to be done. She was stubborn like that.

Evie began to wander the familiar space, though it felt like a lifetime since she had last been here. Like it had been another life entirely. She supposed it had been really. And yet her feet carried her to her old bedroom without instruction.

The eased the door open and automatically reached for the light switch before rethinking the decision. No point in drawing attention to what was supposed to be an empty apartment. And she could see fine in the dark anyway.

Everything was exactly as she had left it, save for the layer of dust that had settled. The clothes she had chosen not to wear that night still lying on the bed, her old laptop open on the desk, and a half-finished stack of homework that would never be finished stood beside it. There was a book on the end table beside the bed that was all about dealing with trauma from abuse. A recommendation from Jenny. 

Her cactus was still alive on the window sill, and her shelves were still littered with trinkets that she’d gathered in her travels before she arrived in LA. An old bus ticket, an iron-on patch, a motel business card, a white and pink seashell, and an old brass pin with a raven engraved into the surface. Then there were the old photos; her and the Drifters, hanging out on the beach with Rowan, movie night with Sam, and a trip to the cinema with her friends.

It felt like walking into someone else’s life despite the fact her presence was written all over the place. Her heart twisted hard in her chest and tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She traced a hand over the desk, dragging up a layer of dust as she did, and she flopped down to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing the dust between her fingers.

“I miss you Sam,” she murmured wetly to herself.

A deep ache of longing throbbed in her chest and she had to swipe at her tears to keep herself from bleeding on anything. If anyone but Sam learned she was alive, things would get messy. Sam, at least, could keep a secret. That magazine and its reporters? Not so much.

She just wished she knew where Sam was right now.

The floorboards creaked as she got to her feet and she drew a deep, sharp breath. She wasn’t going to find out if she sat around moping.

The answering machine was the first port of call. Sam usually changed the message depending on whether or not she was going to be gone for a while for a particular reason, like when they went away to San Diego for a few days. So if Sam had gone somewhere, the answering machine would reflect that. Probably.

_ ‘Hi, this is Sam. I’m not home right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’ _

Or not. 

At the very least, it meant Sam didn’t plan to be gone for more than a few hours. Maybe a day or two. Still Evie couldn’t exactly be waiting around  _ all _ night. Especially if Sam didn’t plan to be back until tomorrow. So maybe it was better to leave Sam a message.

She pulled out her phone and dialled in the landline’s number. The phone rang, and she forced it to go through to voicemail.

“Hey Sam. It’s me. I know you’ve probably been super worried about me, but I’m okay, mostly,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “I need to tell you about what happened, but it’s not something I can say over the phone. 

“I’m staying in an apartment above Tripp’s Pawn Shop. Top of the stairs on the right. Come by, but not in the day, okay? Only after dark. And whatever you do, don’t tell  _ anyone _ about me or this call or anything. It’s  _ really _ important that we keep this between me and you. Not even Jen or Rowan can know. 

“I hope I’ll see you soon. I-I really miss you. Real bad.” Her voice wavered and she sniffed, trying to keep back the tears. “So much has happened, and some of its been completely horrible and I’ve hated it a whole lot. So come see me when you can… Okay. Bye.”

She hung up and swallowed hard on the lump in her throat.

Well she had done what she had come here to do. She decided against hoping that this wouldn’t have disastrous consequences, considering that that would just jinx it, and instead headed back out and relocked the door behind with the spare keys, which she deposited through the slot in the door.

Now that that was done, it was time to try and meet with this Strauss character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooo this chapter was a doozy. Anyone coming over from Blood and Trust knows that Heather was supposed to be kept on by Evie, but when it came to actually _writing_ that encounter... it felt really ooc for Evie to do that. So I made the choice to make some changes to Heather's involvement with Evie, namely that she goes on to watch Evie from afar to try and help, but ends up being turned against her regardless.
> 
> So Blood and Trust is largely the same with some tweaks to Evie's interactions with Heather and Heather's perceptions of Evie being a little more warped and stalkery thanks to the whole vamp blood, so it's not necessary to re-read, it's not hugely different from before.
> 
> As Sam... well you'll see :)
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying the fic, it's been real good getting back into writing this story, I forget how much I love VTM <3


	13. A Plague For The Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disease is spreading in Downtown LA and its up to Evie to get to the bottom of its supernatural cause.

When Strauss had described a ‘mystical sun’, Evie hadn’t imagined that it would be quite so… literal. She stood at the foot of the building - which she had only noticed by chance - and stared up at the round window at the top. A strange purple glow emanated from behind the glass, shifting and twisting like the surface of the sun might.

A pair of lanterns flanked the double doors leading inside, and the curtains were covered by heavy drapes that blocked off any view of the inside. A gnarled tree stood on the tiny, cramped lawn, and at the very top of the building was an empty pedestal that looked like it ought to have a gargoyle perched there.

With a nervous knot in her stomach, Evie knocked on the door. There was no reply. Reluctantly, she tested the door handle and it turned, allowing her to push it open.

The interior wasn’t quite what she had expected. The floor was lined with a plush red rug with golden designs woven into the surface, the entrance hall’s walls had a dark wood trim with pale green wallpaper while the walls in the halls beyond were dark red and lit with lanterns, and to their immediate right was a flight of stairs leading to a solid wooden door. 

No one was waiting for her, and there was no indication where she was supposed to go. She ventured a guess that the door at the top of the stairs was probably locked, so she stepped into the hallway.

The plush carpet gave slightly below her feet and there was a tingling sensation in the air, brushing against her skin in what felt like a welcome.

The hall was identical in both directions, but something told her that it didn’t really matter what way she went. She just needed to walk. So she turned left and started walking.

The hallway turned right, and then gave her the option of going straight forwards or going left. She took the left turn and then rounded the corner where she found herself facing a set of double doors. They were beautifully crafted from dark oak and a window made from crystal that was arranged into the image of a twisted tree that made it impossible to see inside.

She knocked on the door and there was a cool, “come in.”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Inside was a living room. A pair of sofas stood facing each other on either side of an ornate coffee table, and there was an armchair in the corner of the room. The windows were framed by dark red velvet drapes and looked out onto a vast garden that shouldn’t have fit anywhere downtown, but she decided against questioning it for now. Paintings adorned the walls, and there was a glass cabinet filled with tools and contraptions she had never seen before. And at the far end of the room there was a tall marble fireplace surrounded by an iron-wrought fireguard, and standing before it was the tall bald man from Lacroix’s office.

One of the Primogen.

“Greetings Neonate,” Strauss greeted in a cool, unnervingly even voice. “Might I assume you received my invitation? I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time.”

“I did,” she confirmed, suddenly feeling very uneasy. He had to know about her spat with Lacroix after all. “And you must be Mr Strauss?”

“Maximillian Strauss,” he said, almost corrective but not quite. “I am the Regent of this Chantry. Welcome.”

“I’m a little new at all of this. Can I ask what a Chantry  _ is _ , exactly?”

“A chantry is a local gathering place for those of Clan Tremere,” he explained, bouncing on the balls of his feet, suddenly becoming strangely animated. “I live here. As do the apprentices from time to time.”

“So it’s like a haven?”

He nodded.

“As Regent, I am the leader of the Chantry, as well as a teacher to young Tremere who are studying the mysteries of our clan.”

“Wish I had someone teaching me,” she remarked before suddenly realising she’d said it out loud.

But Strauss just chuckled, head tilting to one side.

“A desire for education is an admirable trait, though I doubt what I have to teach would be practical for your situation,” he said smoothly. “I have heard much of your exploits in LA as of late, Neonate, including your investigation into the disappearance of the late Doctor Grout.”

She blinked and swallowed.

“So Lacroix told you about what happened?”

He nodded, and she suddenly realised that he didn’t make much of a habit of blinking behind his round spectacles.

“Indeed. Though I understand that you have since been… to use the common vernacular, cut loose by Prince Lacroix. Might I inquire as to the nature of your departure?”

“Well…” She paused and considered. This was her chance to speak out on Nines’ behalf, if Strauss cared to ensure that the right person was punished for Grout’s death and not just the politically convenient one. “When I got to Grout’s house, I met who I  _ thought _ was Nines Rodriguez. But when we were talking, I realised it wasn’t him.”

Strauss raised a brow, his head tilting curiously to the side.

“I see. Could you elaborate further as to  _ how _ you realised this, Neonate?”

“Well he didn’t  _ act _ like Nines. He didn’t recognise me, even though he’d been teaching me to fight for like a week, and he didn’t move like Nines either.” 

She explained exactly what she had seen, and how that compared with the Nines she had come to know, and Strauss looked like he was considering the information and weighing options with his hands folded behind his back.

“And the Prince did not give you a chance to voice these concerns, which led to your departure?”

“Well that and the fact he kept Dominating me into doing his dirty work,” she said tersely. “He never explained anything, just expected me to do whatever he said, and when I tried to say ‘no’ because I wanted to try and figure things out for myself, he used Dominate and forced me to do it.”

Strauss sighed and shook his head.

“I see. You have had a very unfortunate introduction into the Camarilla, it would seem. Allow me to explain what Prince Lacroix has… delayed in telling you.

“The Camarilla is a Kindred sect that exists to protect its members from the outside world. There are specific codes of behaviour that we abide by in order to ensure the continued existence of our species. It is nothing more and nothing less.”

“That’s not been my experience,” she’s pointed out. “So far I’ve been the one tossed into the fire so Lacroix can stay in the frying pan.”

Strauss raised a brow.

“That is an interesting, and not inaccurate analogy. And, as I’m sure you are aware, not the standard experience for most Fledglings. Most are not placed directly into the care of a Prince, and typically have a sire at their disposal as a means of education and guidance.”

Fair, but it seemed that while Strauss’ explanation covered what the Camarilla was  _ supposed _ to do, the reality didn’t quite match up. With the structure of elders at the top and fledglings at the bottom, it just made it very easy for said elders to take advantage of and use younger Kindred. Like how Lacroix had used her.

“I was told that the Camarilla claims all Kindred as members. Is that true?” she asked, diverting away from that topic before she said something she’d regret.

Strauss shook his head.

“While the Camarilla  _ claims _ all Kindred, not all clans and individuals are aligned with us. The Sabbat, for instance. They are a sect of clans with very different beliefs from ours. Unsavoury sorts, to say the least. I understand that you have already run afoul of them.”

She nodded.

“There was one called Rhys from the warehouse. She really had it out for me,” she explained. “I was pretty lucky that Nines was there to help me.”

“Ah yes, the infamous Mr Rodriguez.” Strauss regarded her curiously and there was a flash of contempt in his eyes that mingled with begrudging respect. “I understand that you owe him your life twice now. Had he not intervened, the Prince would have surely had his hound removed your head from your shoulders.”

She nodded. There was not a doubt in her mind that had Nines chosen not to speak out then she wouldn’t be standing there. Instead she’d be a miserable little pile of ashes that never had a chance to understand what was going on that night.

“In any case, it’s a shame that Mr Rodriguez cannot see the wisdom of the Camarilla. He would make a powerful ally. As it is, he is a significant thorn in Prince Lacroix’s side, which serves my purposes just the same.”

It was Evie’s turn to raise a brow. 

“You’re a member of the Primogen Council. Doesn’t that mean your purposes are the same as Lacroix’s? The protection of the Kindred community. He  _ loves _ to remind me how that’s his purpose for everything he does,” she pointed out. “Or are you suggesting that he might be using the Camarilla’s purpose to serve his own ends?”

Strauss paused and blinked slowly. Then his head tilted slowly to one side, as if he was deliberating on how to respond.

“Lacroix is a Prince, Neonate, and a Ventrue on top of that,” he said slowly. “Even if he weren’t as young and indiscriminate as he’s proven to be, I- ...I say too much. Let us just say that he and I have differing opinions idea on the use of power.”

“I just want an honest evaluation of Lacroix from someone who knows him well. Someone who doesn’t have an obvious bias,” she prodded. “Nines and the Anarchs have given me their take. I’d like to hear what you genuinely think of him from the perspective of a Primogen. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

He gave her a long, searching look, as if he was scouring her for any sign of ill-intent. And then he bowed his head, closing the space between them slightly.

“Without saying too much, I think that Sebastian Lacroix lacks the usual discretion necessary to be a Prince. I see in him a lust for power that overshadows his responsibility to the Camarilla.”

“You think you’d be better suited to be Prince?”

Surprisingly, he shook his head.

“No, Neonate. I do not aspire to such lowly heights. My only interests are that of my clan and the Camarilla.”

“In that order?”

He blinked, and then slowly a smile crept over his features as he chuckled lowly. He gave a wry look.

“You will do well in this new life, Young One. That I can see already.”

He straightened up, the wry smile remaining as he regarded her, not quite with fondness, but a certain respect that was… admittedly a new experience in her book. At least so far as Kindred went.

“So is there anything that needs doing Downtown?” she asked. “Anything I should know about?”

“Let me give you some advice, Neonate. Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well,” he said sternly.

“It’s hard when you don’t have anyone telling you what to look out for,” she pointed out. “I’ve seen people in hazmat suits around who seem worried about things. Is that something we need to be worried about?”

He nodded.

“The word on everybody’s lips these nights, Kindred or Kine, seems to be ‘epidemic’. It seems that disease has been spreading at an alarming rate through the Downtown population. Considering our particular appetites, the local Kindred are more than concerned about these developments.

“My opinion is that the local Anarchs are responsible for the recent outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often lead to such things. Ergo, their need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla.”

Evie frowned and folded her arms.

“I’m not so sure. The Anarchs I’ve met seem to be pretty careful when it comes to feeding. But I guess if even just a few decide to be reckless, it could make a real mess,” she said thoughtfully. “And if anyone might know about that, it’d be Damsel. I could go talk to her, see if she’s heard anything or has any ideas on where to start looking.”

Strauss regarded her curiously.

“An interesting proposition. If you could determine the source of this epidemic and put an end to it, I would be willing to compensate you accordingly for your efforts.”

[]

Evie couldn’t help but feel a few icy stares turn to her as she stepped into the Last Round before every Kindred seemed to go out of their way to ignore her. She recoiled slightly, but then pressed forward through the crowd, trying to ignore the animosity being aimed at her.

It seemed the Anarchs were still upset with her part in Nines having to go into hiding, even if the Blood Hunt hadn’t been declared yet. She could only hope that Strauss would bring up what she’d told him the next time the Primogen met with Lacroix to discuss the matter, and that it made a difference. If Strauss needed Nines around to needle Lacroix, maybe some of the other Primogen felt the same way.

So she suffered the icy indifference and headed upstairs to find Damsel at her usual table. She had her feet up and she looked more disgruntled than usual.

“‘Sup Cammy?” she grunted when she saw Evie approaching. “Having fun being off the leash?”

Evie dropped herself into the opposite seat.

“It’s a definite improvement,” she remarked. “But I got an invitation from Strauss, the Tremere Regent? He wanted me to meet him at the Chantry.”

Damsel scowled.

“Ugh, Baldie? What did he want?”

“He wanted the chance to ‘explain the Camarilla’s purpose’,” she snorted, folding her arms atop the table. “How it’s about protecting Kindred, nothing more and nothing less. Conveniently left out the part where Elders get to use the rest of us in their plans.”

“Ha, fucking typical. I told you Cammy, they’re all the same. Good thing you’re learning to see through it.”

Damsel gave her a rough shake of the shoulder that was clearly meant to be affectionate. It was surprising that she, of all people, wasn’t holding the Nines Incident against Evie when everyone else was all too happy to leave her holding the bag.

“Yeah, well he also asked me to look into the epidemic here downtown,” she continued. “He seems to think that the Anarchs are responsible and-”

“HE WHAT?!”

Damsel’s boots hit the ground as her fist slammed down on the table, and her gaze instant went from simmering heat to raging fury, though by this point Evie had a hard time feeling intimidated by her. Pissed off seemed to be her typical state of mind, and she’d gotten used to it by now.

“That magic-missile-launching motherfucker! If Nines hadn’t made me promise to keep my nose clean, I’d scalp his stupid bald head and put it on the wall! Thinking one of us is the damned Plaguebearer!”

Yet another new term she’d have to memorise. Wonderful. Still it seemed important, so she asked.

Damsel threw herself back into her chair, putting a boot back on the table and angrily crossing her arms over her chest as she huffed.

“A Plaguebearer’s a fool who doesn’t care who they feed from. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, we can’t get sick. But the Kine can, and Kindred that feed on them start spreading disease. Enough get sick, it’s an epidemic, and CDC is in town as we speak.”

So the name spoke for itself, good to know. But what Evie didn’t understand was why Kindred were concerned. The Anarchs and Camarilla seemed to share a certain degree of indifference to mortals that put the groups beyond what were mortal concerns. But Damsel was all too happy to explain the precise problem, as she didn’t even need prompting.

“If someone puts two and two together as the true cause of an outbreak of bloodborne diseases, guess what happens. Hunters, that’s what. So the Plaguebearer’s gotta be found and put down. If Strauss and the Camarilla really gave a damn, they’d help us out, but we both know how that goes.”

She blew a raspberry as she stuck up a middle finger in what Evie presumed was supposed to be a somewhat crude impression of the Regent.

“Maybe Strauss thinks that asking me for help counts,” Evie replied bluntly. “Still, the last thing we need is hunters kicking down our doors. Where do I start looking?”

Damsel raised a brow but straightened up.

“One of our boy’s ghouls, name’s Paul, lives nearby in the Skyline Apartments. Been a bit of a stranger lately. Looked like death last time he was here. Said he didn’t get bit but… Maybe you can get more info out of him. His apartment’s on the fifth floor. And if Paul’s not talking, try the homeless pop. So many of them have been dying lately that it takes the city a few days to pick up the bodies.”

Evie pulled a face and felt a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Being homeless in times of crisis was nothing to sneeze at. She’d been there herself just three years ago, living in various shelters and sleeping rough on streets. It was a rare thing for someone to make eye contact with you, much less provide any assistance. They were more concerned with looking out for themselves.

If there was a universal truth, it was that the homeless were always the most invisible people in any given city, and always the first to die when things got bad. And no one gave a damn until it started hurting them.

“I’ll see what I can do,” was all she said though. “Later Damsel.”

“Sure thing Cammy.” She rose to her feet and stretched. “I’ll round up some of the others and we’ll get looking too. Lemme know when you’ve found something.”

[]

It was on her way over to the Skyline Apartments that something occurred to Evie. When she’d run a couple of jobs for Arthur Kilpatrick she’d found a lead on a bail jumper called Muddy who’d left a message for his girlfriend telling her that he’d be staying in one of the apartments.

It had been a while, and so while it was likely that Arthur had found a new bounty hunter and had caught up to Muddy by now, she couldn’t resist indulging her own curiosity. So she made a mental note to check Reno’s apartment while she was here once she was done speaking with Paul.

The Skyline seemed to be a pretty expensive place to live, considering that there was a security guard in the lobby and one apartment per floor. It was definitely nicer than her haven at any rate. She stepped into the elevator and depressed the button for the fifth floor. The doors slid shut with a soft ‘whoosh’ before rising upwards with a soft rattle that would have been almost inaudible to mortal senses.

The doors opened onto a small tiled landing with a single door, which had a lush green plant standing outside and a keypad on the wall. The door wasn’t locked however, so she let herself in.

Immediately she was hit by the stink of death and sickness, and she knew she was unlikely to get anything out of Paul. The lights were out, but she could see just fine and she moved into the room. 

She found Paul lying face down in the kitchen. Going from the smell of him, he’d been dead a while. She crouched down and hesitantly reached for his shoulders, then rolled him onto his back.

Patches of discoloration were splattered over his face which was slack and free of rigor mortis. His gut was somewhat swollen with gas, and there were no injuries that she could see; no bruises, stab wounds or bullet holes. He’d been killed by this mystery illness, that much was obvious, and he’d been this way for a while.

She straightened up and glanced around, unsure of what she could possibly be looking for. An illness didn’t always leave a visible trace. Yet her instincts told her that there was  _ some _ evidence here… And she realised it was her nose trying to lead her. There was a faint aroma lingered in the air, one that didn’t quite belong, leading in from the door, up the stairs, and into the bedroom.

She followed the trail when she came across the stained bedsheets, and her stomach turned in revulsion. 

“I did  _ not  _ need to see your leftovers, Paul,” she muttered to the air.

Still this was proof that someone else had come to the apartment. And maybe that someone was the source of Paul’s infection. Meaning she had to figure out a way to track this person… And scent wouldn’t be enough.

Heading back down into the kitchen, Evie glanced around. If Paul had a lover, then he had to have a way of contacting them, and they him. She didn’t see a laptop, and she wasn’t eager to search his body for his phone, but there was an answer machine on the kitchen counter.

So she gave it a go.

“ _ You have One new voicemail, _ ” the mechanical feminine voice declared.

Crossing her fingers, Evie pressed the play button.

“ _ Hey Paul, it’s Hannah, _ ” a weak voice wavered, interspersed by coughing. “ _ Just calling to see how you are. Hope I didn’t give you what I’ve got. I feel like crap. Actually, I need to ask you a favour. Could you pick me up some cold medicine at the store? _ ”

More coughing, and it sounded bad. Very bad.

“ _ I hate to bother you but, I can’t seem to get out of bed. The code on my door is 1-2-0-3. Hey listen, I uh. Had a really good time the other night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Sorry I’m rambling. Okay, bye. _ ”

Evie frowned and ran a hand through her hair. If Hannah was as sick as she sounded, she might already be dead. But if she wasn’t, then she might be able to give her some idea of where she had gotten this illness and that might get Evie closer to the Plaguebearer. But it all hinged on this call being recent.

She decided to check the other apartments. There was only one above Paul’s, so it was worth checking the code on that door first. With any luck it would be Hannah’s and she wouldn’t need to check the others - at the very least she could rule out the first floor apartment, which she knew belonged to Reno.

And it seemed that this time, luck was on her side. The door of the uppermost apartment unlocked, and Evie stepped inside.

Hannah’s place stunk of sickness, hanging in the air like a miasma, but the reek of decay wasn’t present. With any luck, that meant she wasn’t too late. 

“Hannah?” she called. “Paul sent me. Are you here?”

There was a long bout of silence followed by a quiet croak of, “upstairs.”

Evie hurried up to the bedroom on the upper level and knocked on the door before cracking it open.

Hannah was lying in bed, squinting up at the crack in the door to see who had come in. Evie could see perfectly clearly in the dark, but Hannah wasn’t quite so lucky.

“W-who are you?” Hannah wheezed.

“I’m Paul’s sister,” Evie lied, letting herself in. “He’s not well and he asked me to come check in on you.”

“Really?” She coughed hard. “That’s so sweet of him. Is everything okay with him?”

“I’m going to head out and get him some medicine, he just really wanted me to check on you first,” she said. “I could get you some too if you’d like. Can you tell me what you’ve got?”

“I-” She coughed into her hand, and Evie could smell the spatter of blood. “I don’t really know. I’ve taken all kinds of medicine, but I can’t seem to get rid of it. I feel like I’ve got a fever, a sore throat, I’m feeling pretty weak… I can’t even get out of bed.”

“Sounds bad. How long have you been sick?” 

It was evident that Hannah wasn’t going to last more than an hour. She was deathly pale, and her coughing was getting worse, and she could practically smell the approach of death on the poor woman. 

Hannah, however, just did her best to focus and screwed up her face in concentration.

“Well, I think… Uh… I think I got it from one of my clients. I was feeling fine until I- until I saw her a few days ago. She was just a woman who called… she, uh, saw my ad in the newspaper… I usually only do business with referrals but she- she offered a lot of money.”

“Who was she Hannah? Try to remember.”

Hannah’s head began to droop before quickly snapping back up, and it was clear that her condition was deteriorating at a rapid pace.

“Her name was- Her name was Jezebel. Jezebel Locke. I’m not usually too good with names, but her’s was so strange… can’t seem to… to get it out of my head…”

“Where did you meet her? Where can I find Jezebel Locke?” Evie pressed a little harder. 

She could  _ smell _ the life inside Hannah beginning to dwindle, could hear her heartbeat stutter and her lungs groaning from the effort of inhaling and exhaling.

“She has a room at… at the Empire Hotel,” she breathed with a great deal of effort. “I forget the number… Hey… is Paul okay…? Is he sick…?”

“He’ll be okay, Hannah,” Evie lied, carefully placing a hand to Hannah’s shoulder as her eyes began to slide shut and her heart slowed to a near halt. “It’ll all be okay.”

She nodded slowly, as her head lay back against the pillow, and then she finally went limp as the last of the life finally drained away. And just like that, Hannah was dead.

[]

Evie made a quick stop at Reno’s apartment to find that no one was in, but there was a message on the answering machine that described a meet at a building across from a local bar, but otherwise held no other identifying information, and so she made a note to look into that after she was done with this Plaguebearer business.

For now, she headed over to the Empire Arms Hotel. 

It was a ritzy kind of place, a huge stark white building with the name emblazoned across it in a coat of arms. Countless windows glimmered against its exterior, and there was even a doorman outside in a sleek cut uniform.

He opened the door for Evie, though cast her a questioning glance as she stepped inside. Her new clothes were better than her old ones - a sleek leather jacket, a dark blue henley, skinny jeans and knee-high leather boots, all in addition to her favoured beanie - but she got the distinct feeling that she was not the hotel’s typical clientele.

That much was a proven fact when she stepped inside and found herself standing in the lobby. White marble, pillars, violet drapes, and the receptionist was in an Armani suit. He raised a brow as Evie walked over.

“Welcome to the Empire Arms Hotel,” he greeted with a professional smile that in no way met his eyes. “May I help you?”

“Hi, I’m a courier with the Lacroix Foundation,” she introduced professionally. “I’ve been asked to deliver a package to a guest named Jezebel Locke?”

The receptionist blinked and tilted his head.

“Ah, I see. Miss Locke is one of our more… popular guests. But I wasn’t told to expect a package for her.”

Evie feigned ignorance and cocked her head to one side.

“Are you sure? Miss Locke made a very specific order from the Lacroix Foundation for a, uh, item of a  _ personal _ nature. Mr Lacroix asked me to deliver it personally to ensure it arrived as quickly as possible,” she insisted. She then glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers and leaned in, dropping her voice to a near whisper. “Mr Lacroix takes Miss Locke’s requests  _ very _ seriously, and wants to ensure she gets what she wants when she wants.”

The receptionist blinked and then nodded slowly in understanding.

“Oh, I see. In that case, I’ll give you a key to the room, it’s on the fifth floor. Have a good evening, Miss...”

Evie smiled sweetly.

“Lacroix.”

As she turned and trotted over to the elevators, the receptionist’s eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. 

What mattered, she told herself, was keeping her stories consistent. If Chunk believed her to be Mr Lacroix’s younger sister, then it was important that anyone else who didn’t know her nature believed it too.

She pressed the button for the fifth floor and it ascended upwards in perfect silence, save for the tinkling of elevator music. The doors slid open upon arrival, revealing three sets of double doors. The key unlocked the one on the right and Evie stepped into the hallway beyond. 

There was a door labelled for staff almost immediately inside, but then around the corner, there was a door on the right followed by another set of double doors.

Evie reached into her bag and pulled out the silenced pistol before pressing an ear to the door on the right. She heard movement, the very subtle creak of a mattress as the room’s occupant sat down and there was a muffled rustling as if they were digging through a bag for something, but there was no heartbeat or breathing. No cleaning staff were inside then, just Jezebel Locke.

That made things much easier then.

Evie cracked the door open and slipped inside silently, shutting it behind her. When it clicked shut, the woman sitting on the bed looked up from the hand mirror she was looking into as she applied her makeup. Her eyes fixed on Evie, who pointed the gun at her.

The stench of sickness and disease wafted off of Locke and permeated across the room, thick and pungent like rotting flesh that perfume couldn’t hide from a Kindred. And yet she didn’t look the slightest bit sick. No wheezing or coughing. There was only hunger in her sharp, focused gaze as she immediately aroused to alertness.

“Jezebel Locke?” Evie demanded, as if she even needed to ask. 

Locke just looked amused at best.

“Ooh, what do we have here?” she purred as she set down her tools and rose from the bed. “Are you a believer, little morsel? Are you here for the kind of enlightenment that only Jezebel can give? Won’t you come into my parlor?”

Evie glared at her, and yet she hesitated. Her finger lingered on the trigger, but her stomach twisted horribly in revulsion. 

Locke clearly needed to be killed. There was obviously something wrong with her, and she was deliberately spreading her sickness, but still she hesitated. And that was all the opening that Locke needed.

She flitted forwards across the room and seized Evie by the wrist, smirking down at her. An uncomfortable pressure pressed in from all sides, as did the stench of pestilence that swirled heavy in the air around them.

“Oh, you cannot escape me, little morsel. One way or another, you and I will intertwine our beings on the way into the Ninth Circle, and I will send you forth, full of the sweet sickness I carry…”

But as the pressure pressed down, Evie pressed back and it suddenly dispersed with perfect ease, as easy as waving off a waft of smoke. She wrenched her wrist back from Locke who looked taken aback by the development.

“You’re crazy, and I’m going to stop whatever it is you’re doing here and now,” Evie snapped, pointing the gun at Jezebel. “Either you stand down and surrender yourself to the Tremere Regent, or I give you your Final Death, here and now.”

Locke’s honeyed expression soured and twisted into a dark glare as she reached behind her back-

_ SHOOT! _

Evie pulled the trigger, aiming directly for Locke’s forehead. There was a muffled ‘ _ thunk _ ’ as the silencer stifled the worst of the noise, and the bullet drilled her between the eyes. But it didn’t take her down. The trade off for silence was power, and Kindred were resilient to bullets at it was. 

Locke staggered, clutching her face as the blood streamed down, and her eyes flickered to Evie. There was venom in her stare and she flitted back a few steps, moving so fast that she was only a blur.

The pressure of the discipline returned, washing over the room as if she was hoping that it would slow the young Gangrel down. But Evie had already unsheathed her machete and shot forwards, slashing at Locke’s throat.

Vitae spurted out in a fountain as the thin red seam split open into a wide gash, and Evie ducked out of its path, narrowly avoiding the knife that Locke had swung at her in turn. Getting in behind her, she grabbed the taller Kindred by the shoulder and plunged the machete between her shoulder blades, thrusting the tip through to the other side.

The fight hadn’t even lasted thirty seconds, and Jezebel Locke disintegrated into ashes on the floor.

Breathing hard, Evie almost missed the buzzing of her phone. It was Damsel calling.

“Cammy, you found that Plaguebearer yet?” she demanded impatiently.

“Yeah,” she panted, trying her best to control her body’s shaking at the sight of the blood on the floor. “Yeah I found her. Jezebel Locke. Just killed her at the Empire Arms.” She grimaced. “Paul’s dead, by the way. Got sick after sleeping with one of Locke’s victims.”

“God fucking damnit,” Damsel cursed. “We just got one of the bastards at the Convention Centre.”

Evie stiffened and her heart plummeted at the implication.

“There was another one?”

“Yeah. Which means it’s open season - we need to find every single last one of these bastards and stamp ‘em out, got it? You spoken with the homeless yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then get your ass to it and find out what they know. Talk to you later.”

“Hang on, Locke mentioned a ‘Ninth Circle’,” Evie added hurriedly before Damsel could hang up. “Your guy mention anything like that?”

“Tch, yeah. Sounds like we’re dealing with a fucking death cult,” she spat. Someone then shouted in the distance, causing Damsel to pause, then shout back, “right, got it. Listen Cammy, we got us another lead. You chase your’s and we’ll chase our’s, and then meet at the Last Round and see what we’ve got. Maybe we’ll get right to the source.”

Evie nodded and pocketed her phone as Damsel hung up and locked up the room behind her. With any luck, ‘Miss Lacroix’ would never be connected to the violent murder of Jezebel Locke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Krazyfan1 and TheMissingTriforce for all your lovely comments!! I'm glad you guys have been enjoying the fic, your feedback really keeps me going :D


	14. The Ninth Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After destroying Jezebel Locke, Evie's pursuit of the next Plaguebearer leads her into the sewers below Downtown.

The homeless of LA could be found almost anywhere, but the largest congregation of them was ironically camped just a ways past the Last Round where they could shelter beneath an overhang of concrete, keeping warm around oil drums filled with debris and smoking flame. They tended to be bundled in heavy coats fished from dumpsters or charity shops, with scarves tugged over their heads to keep the cold from their ears and faces.

These were the true downtrodden of LA, of any city in the world, and they were wary when Evie entered their midsts. It was obvious that she wasn’t one of them, and that they decided not to trust her on sight.

A group of women in their middle ages huddled further into their corner of the cramped, dark space, whispering among themselves as their eyes skated over the newcomer, and a man with a scraggly mane of hair that encompassed his entire head and face watched her warily.

But Evie made her way over to the near-blind elderly woman closest to the fire, whose trembling hands belayed more than just the onset of the coming winter. She squinted up at Evie through the crusted lids of her eyes and scowled.

“Get away!” she snapped. “Leave me alone!”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Evie said soothingly, holding her hands up to show they were empty. “I just need to ask some questions.”

The old woman’s scowl only deepened with suspicion.

“Oh you do? Well, I don’t believe you! You’re after my cans, aren’t you? Well you’re not going to get them!” 

She waved a hand and Evie noticed that at the foot of her narrow perch there was a small stack of cans, all unopened and undoubtedly filled with food, from canned peaches to canned beans. A proverbial gold mine for people like her, and frankly it was amazing that no one had taken them from her.

At least it was until she took a swing with her cane. Evie dodged and took a step back, keeping her hands up.

“I’m not here to take your cans,” she promised, keeping her voice even. “I just need to ask some questions about the sickness that’s been going around lately, and if anyone’s seen anything strange that might be related to it. And I’m willing to trade for answers.”

The old woman fixed Evie with a scowl that could be described as hawkish. Her beady eyes scanned her up and down as her withered hands settled on the top of her cane.

“Twenty dollars.”

It was her only demand, and frankly it was a little sad that she asked for so little. Evie pulled out her wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar bill which she discreetly handed to the old woman.

She blinked at the number but was wise enough to say nothing as she tucked it away into the folds of her coat, out of sight of the others who were watching.

“You need to speak with Tin Can Bill,” she said sharply, then lifted her cane and jabbed it in the direction of the back alley across from them. “He keeps jabbering on about some monster that grabbed him and made him sick. That’s all I know, and it’s all I’m saying.”

“That’s all I needed. Thanks.”

She set off at a pace, ignoring the eyes that followed her. Tin Can Bill was around the corner as promised, and like Hannah, he wasn’t looking so good. He was pallid, and the stench of alcohol did nothing to disguise the reek of sickness and death. He didn’t have long left.

His head snapped up as Evie approached him, slouched low against the wall and propped up by the dumpster. He blinked up at her through clouded eyes and frowned.

“Who’s that? Is that you Betty? Old Bill can’t see too good these days.” He coughed hard, long and wheezing, and a little blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t got no booze tonight, so you might as well get the hell out of here.”

“Tin Can Bill?” Evie crouched down beside him. “I spoke with a friend of your’s who told me that a monster made you sick. Can you tell me what happened?”

He blinked, coughed deep in his chest, and squinted at her.

“Yeah, sure I could. But I’m awful tonight thirsty, Miss. Could you spare five bucks for a man who’s been down on his luck?”

He wouldn’t live long enough to make use of it, but Evie held it out regardless. She’d likely be taking it back by the time their conversation was done. Even so it made his poor, blinded eyes brighten with delight.

“Thank you very much! I’m going to have to pick up some hooch! Uh, for medicinal purposes you see-” 

He started coughing again and it was clear that the sickness was wracking his ruined lungs. He had minutes left at best, and Evie knew she’d have to get him talking fast.

“Now, you ain’t gonna believe old Bill, because I’ve been telling my friends and the cops and everyone since it happened, and people just say it’s the hootch talking and nothing more.” He shuddered as he cast his mind back, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It was a monster, you see! A monster with his face all twisted and ugly, teeth longer than your finger, and these eyes - piss yellow and full o’ hate! I’ve never seen eyes like those before… Still giving me bad dreams.”

“It’s okay Bill, I believe you,” she urged gently. “Tell me what the monster did.”

Bill nodded as he coughed hard, and he patted his chest as if that would help to clear his lungs.

“He grabbed me, threw me over his shoulder, t-t-took me to the bad place… the  _ dark _ place. Oh god… the smell…! Worse than anything I’ve- and then! Then he bit my neck! Oh god, i-it was horrible…”

He trailed off as he somehow grew even paler, like he was struggling not to vomit as he remembered. Evie squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, keeping him anchored. It took him a few moments to recompose himself.

“Don’t remember much after that,” he wheezed. “Woke up in my alley. Been feeling bad ever since.”

“Do you remember where the monster took you, Bill?” Evie pressed, keeping her voice calm and soft. “Where’s the bad place?”

It took him a moment to catch his breath as breathing became harder and harder, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air for him to speak. His heart was failing him, like it was trying to pump glue rather than blood, struggling and failing to keep him going. It was nearly over.

“Came up from the sewers, he did,” he croaked. “Just around the corner there… Don’t want to go back to the bad place, friend. Don… Don’t let the monster come back and take me there…”

“I won’t. I promise.” 

She held his hand as he slipped away, focusing her blood to provide her flesh whatever warmth she could manage as the life in him vanished. She took the five dollars from his hand and stuck it back in her pocket, feeling a little sick herself.

And then she straightened up and looked for the manhole cover that would lead her to the dark place. It wasn’t hard to find - right around the corner like Bill had said. 

After quickly checking that no one was around, she lifted the manhole cover and hauled it to one side. The metallic scraping bounced off the walls, and almost immediately she understood what Bill had meant by the smell. 

There was a distinct stench of rotting flesh, stale blood, and bile. It was distant, but wafts of it escaped and dispersed into the cold night air. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Always sewers,” she muttered to herself as she lowered herself onto the ladder. “What is it with vampires and  _ sewers _ ?”

She knew the answer of course, but if vampires needed secret ways around a city, couldn’t they at least have the decency to install air fresheners or something?

She dropped down into the sewer water at the foot of the ladder and let her eyes adjust to the dark. The tunnels opened up into an intersection, with a gated path directly ahead of her, and two paths stretching in opposite directions. 

Rats scurried in the sewage and then paused when they noticed her intrusion. Their noses twitched in her direction before they scurried away, diving into the water and vanishing from sight. Chances were they knew to avoid Kindred whenever they could, lest they become a meal for them.

Evie sniffed the air. The stink was still far off, but it was stronger in the sewer than it had been above ground. And it was coming from all directions. The flow of air made it tricky to tell which path was strongest, but she decided to take what seemed to be the most straightforward path.

Predictably the gate was locked, but it proved little trouble for a lockpick. With a loud squeal, the gate swung open and she tentatively crossed the threshold. The smell grew no stronger or weaker, it was just there, lingering in the air.

The only way forward from here was a pipe she’d have to crawl through, which had a ladder leading upwards at the end. Where it went from there, she couldn’t tell, but the stink persisted so it was worth a shot.

She wriggled through the tight space, grateful that she was on the smaller side of things, and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder. Drawing her legs up to her chest, she managed to stand up straight in the narrow pipe and climbed upwards, following the trail that lingered on the air.

The ladder led into a large concrete room with no identifying features or clear purpose, only another pipe leading off of it. Perhaps it existed in the event of flooding, providing more space for water to go that kept it below the streets, but otherwise she had no idea.

What she could tell was that the stink was stronger in here, more concentrated, and that meant she was on the right track. It wasn’t the kind of situation she exactly  _ wanted _ to be walking into, but it was the direction she needed to be headed in. Whoever this Kindred was, they had a few things to answer for.

At least she could guess at what kind she was dealing with, based on Bill’s description. She only knew of one clan that could be described as visibly monstrous.

So she clambered into the pipe and began to crawl.

The stench of rotten flesh grew stronger and stronger the further she went, the sickening aroma of stale, coagulated blood crawling up her nose, and it felt like bile was thick on her tongue. An unnatural darkness fell upon her as she crawled, and like it had been at the Ocean House, her vampiric vision did nothing to help her see. But her nose wasn’t blinded, so she followed the stink and hoped she at least lived to regret her decisions.

After what felt like an hour - but in reality was only a long few minutes - a pinprick of light broke the darkness. Evie crawled towards it, relief soaking into her chest with some measure of caution. The reek of death and decay was growing stronger with every passing moment, she reminded herself, and that was by no means a good thing.

The pipe ended suddenly, dropping off into a vast open chamber that was adjacent to the source of the red-orange light. And the stench was nearly overwhelming.

Evie tucked, pushing her feet forward and dropping down into the chamber below with a splash. She glanced around. Two passages led off to the left and right respectively so it seemed likely she’d have ended up here regardless of which way she’d chosen to go.

Still, this place… 

She stepped into the lit chamber and realised that the orange glow was fire burning in torches that were bolted to the concrete pillars that held up the ceiling. Arranged in rows on either side, they formed an aisle up the centre of the room that gave the chamber a look that was reminiscent of a cathedral. Between the pillars, off to the sides, were heaps of what - disturbingly - seemed to be human remains. Guts, organs, limbs, flayed skin, all stacked in piles that were taller than she was, and all of them slowly rotting away. Pink and red had made way for black, green and yellow, and fluid and refuse tainted the water surrounding them, forming a disgusting, lumpy film on the surface. And even at a distance, she could see the tiny, wriggling forms of tiny white maggots burrowing their way through the flesh, their feast plentiful and unending in scope.

Blood had been splattered up the walls, and it mingled freely with streaks of yellow bile and other bodily fluids that Evie couldn’t identify. And at the end of the room, strung up between chains in a spread eagle, was the disemboweled corpse. The poor soul’s chin rested against their discoloured chest, their skin washed out and drained of colour, and their swollen, gas-filled guts were literally hanging out of a narrow slit in their belly and swaying loosely in the air. 

Evie had to work very hard to not be sick, because if she started she might not be able to stop. The reek of decay was strongest here, and it was now evident where the sickness was created - mounds of rotting flesh in raw sewage was the perfect breeding ground for killer diseases.

She pulled out her phone and went to punch in Damsel’s number when a resounded  _ CLANG!  _ made her jump a good foot in the air and turn just in time to see the portcullis drop over the entrance to the chamber, effectively trapping her inside. 

“Found your way down here did you? Following the smell of entrails and rotting flesh?” a guttural voice rasped, bouncing off the walls, leaving it with no determinable source. “Looking for a free meal, little bloodsucker? There’s meat galore in my kingdom.”

Evie glanced around, but sure enough she couldn’t see anyone. Still she pulled out her machete and held it ready.

“Who the hell are you? Some friend of Locke’s?” she retorted hotly.

There was no movement in the water, no splashing or ripples besides those she made herself. Otherwise the water was still, save for the moments when flesh sloughed away from the mounds and dropped into the pool below. So that left only the dais at the end of the room, below the tortured body.

And perhaps the Nosferatu sensed that, as he willingly revealed himself, melting out of the shadows. Just as Bill had described him, he was hideously deformed with flayed grey skin and a misshapen scalp that was splitting under the strain of his swollen flesh. His eyes were yellow, not quite like her own, more akin to the shade of piss as Bill had described, and they were burning with hatred. He had long claws and teeth that locked together, but the vampiric canines were too long for his mouth, forcing them to jut out over his lips.

He glowered at Evie, shoulders hunched as he inspected her.

“Brother Kanker, they call me. High Lord in the diseased halls of the dead. Look around you!” He did a sweeping gesture at the mounds, the splatters, the spread-eagle corpse, his eyes burning with passion. “The blood, the bloated bodies, the maggot-ridden mortal shells! These are the signs, the coming of a new age!”

She scowled back at him.

“So you spread your sickness to the homeless. To do what?!” she demanded, edging back towards a pillar without ever taking her eyes off of Kanker.

“They are the weak, the hopeless. I give them new purpose,” Kanker retorted. “They are the vessels of darkness, carrying the diseased truth in their veins!”

Like how Locke had spread the disease to her ‘guests’, transforming them into vessels for the sickness as she fed on their blood, turning them into human vectors. Effective, if not completely horrifying.

“There are more Plaguebearers, aren’t there! I already killed Locke, and my friends got one of them at the convention centre!”

Kanker’s already-twisted face distorted into a furious snarl as he hissed at her between his fangs.

“We are not mere Plaguebearers, little morsel,” he hissed. “We are the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle! The darkest dawn is almost upon us! Come! Join us in these last nights, spreading our disease upon the earth, sharing this unholy communion with our human herd!”

He raised his long, clawed hands towards the ceilings, his eyes wide with fanatical joy.

“The doors have been opened! The seals have been broken! And the final steps into the abyss; the terrible mysteries of the Ninth Circle!”

Then he pointed a long, clawed finger at Evie, who stood side on, machete in one hand, and the other poised to grab.

“Come! Join the disciples who have gathered here, floating in their own putrescence! I will show you the mysteries of our Brotherhood as I feed on your flesh!”

He lunged with slashing claws and Evie made her grab for the torch in its sconce. She shoved it into his face and he screamed wildly as the flames licked at his tortured flesh. As he tried to grab the torch or her wrist or whatever he could reach to force it away, Evie rammed the machete through his sternum. But it didn’t go as deep as she had anticipated, as if his flesh had gone taught and thickened, refusing to let her pierce too deeply.

The torch fell away from the furious, flaking face of Kanker, who bared his fangs in rage as he made to bite, and Evie was forced to abandon both of her weapons as she stumbled back a few steps, grasping for the revolver.

Her first shot went wide and Kanker made to lunge at her again he stopped short, tossing aside the torch and tearing out the machete which he discarded into the sewage. She fired again, barely skimming the side of his head before he swung and caught her in the arm.

Hot, fiery pain exploded in her arm, and she screamed as she tumbled into the sewage. The agony lanced through her, and she unconsciously forced blood to the wound in a desperate attempt to close it shut. 

As she flailed, Kanker seized her by the scruff of her neck, long claws digging into her soft flesh as he ripped her up from the water and held her a good foot in the air. The claws of her free hand flashed, aiming for her gut.

In a moment of blind panic, she raised the revolver and fired. And got luckier than any fledgling had any right to be. The bullet caught him in the still-open wound in his chest, and punched through to his spine.

With an agonised yowl, he dropped Evie, who fumbled blindly for her machete only to find it had long vanished in the muck and murk. Behind her, Kanket staggered and wretched as blood began to well up in his mouth, dripping between irregular fangs. Then he turned his hateful yellow eyes on her.

He lurched forward, struggling to keep his balance as he raised a clawed hand over his head to strike the killing blow. But Evie was smaller and faster, and rolled out of his path, no longer concerned with the fact that she was covered in sewage.

The last thing that Kanket saw was the barrel of the gun as she fired once more, catching him right between the eyes. And like Locke before him, Kanker collapsed into a pile of ash that fell over the surface of the water, like a flurry of grey snow.

[]

Sodden and stinking of waste, Evie had almost forgotten the recorded message from Reno’s apartment before she stopped dead at the door of the Last Round. Desperate as she was for a shower to get the stench of sewer and death off of her, she knew this Ninth Circle business needed settling now rather than later. She could clean up later.

But just as she was about to push the door open, she remembered the message and glanced over her shoulder. There was a nondescript building directly opposite the bar, and a figure in a black hoodie was walking away from it as quickly as possible. There was a reek about him… something strangely familiar.

Curiosity got the better of her.

She jumped the railing of the slope that led up to the door and slipped inside. She was hit by the aroma of fresh, warm blood. A lot of it.

The inside was a wreck, having been left in disrepair for a long time. An old concrete walkway had half crumbled, leaving several steel support cables exposed. And on one of these cables, a headless body had been impaled through the neck. The gut had been ripped open, and the arms had been near torn off, hanging on just barely by strands of sinew.

It reminded her of something… And then it popped into her head.

The Southland Slasher killings, like with the body at Santa Monica Pier. There had been other murders even before that one, and now here she was, faced with the latest victim.

Her mind turned to the person in the black hoodie. It must have been them! She’d seen them leaving the scene just moments ago, she could probably catch up if she-!

There was movement in the corner of her eye and she spun on the ball of her foot, pulling out her silenced pistol… and found herself face-to-face with the bearded homeless man she’d seen earlier.

He flinched and held up his hands, his eyes wild with fear.

“D-d-d-did you see it?” he stammered.

Evie frowned and lowered the gun.

“You mean the headless corpse? Hard to miss,” she noted dryly.

But the man just shook his head, trembling all over and his eyes were glazed over with shock.

“He done tore him up,” he murmured. “Right in two. Ripped him apart like a rag doll…”

Evie tucked the gun back into her belt.

“Tell me what you saw.”

The man blinked, then nodded slowly and began fidgeting with his hands.

“These two fellas - the dead one and the other’n - they showed up. I’d been living here, so I hid. Thought they were the owners, or the cops come to clean the place out,” he explained, the words all but spilling out as his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at the corpse. 

“They was waiting on someone. They was going to do some job, they were saying. But the person they was meeting was late so - the one guy leaves to find a phone and call him and the dead guy stayed. Well, that’s when the killer - that’s when he showed up.

“One second he wasn’t there and then he was; like out of the shadows he come up. Scared the shit outta the dead guy. I’d liked ta scream, but I couldn’t breath. And then the killer… He- He grew these  _ claws _ ! I swear, I saw it! The dead guy went white, like he’d seen the devil, then the killer grabbed him ‘round the neck and lifted him up and started cursing the guy.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

He shook his head frantically, barely able to look at Evie as his eyes kept darting back to the door and at the shadows, as though he was just waiting for the killer to return.

“I-I couldn’t hear too good. Something about revenge for what he did, or what they did. Th-the killer made sure the dead guy knew who he was, and then ripped him open. Just… tore him apart.” He blanched just remembering it, and he looked like he might be sick. Then he mumbled, “he did it real slow… made the guy  _ scream _ …”

“What about the other man?” Evie pressed, trying to keep him focused. “Did you hear a name? Did he come back?”

“I… No, he didn’t come back. But the dead fella called him Muddy.”

Interesting. So Muddy was still alive somewhere. Though it seemed unlikely that the killer was going to leave him that way forever.

“Right. Listen, I believe you okay,” she said firmly. “But you can’t tell anyone about what really happened here. If you do, they’ll call you crazy and lock you up, or leave you to die in an alley like old Tin Can Bill. So we’ll keep this between us, okay?”

The man was all too eager to agree to those terms, nodding frantically before scrambling to leave without so much as a backwards look.

Still she had a few things to consider. One, the killer was Kindred, maybe even a Gangrel like herself. And second, he had a very serious grudge against his victims for something they had done. She wondered if it was related to Muddy’s ‘mile long rap sheet’ that Arthur had mentioned.

_ Up. Get. _

Obeying her instincts, Evie found the portion of collapsed walkway and clambered up towards where the body had been hung. The killer had stripped away his jacket and shirt, and tangled up in the heap was a keycard. 

Frowning, she picked it up.

_ Luckee Star - Room 6 _

She stuck the keycard in her pocket for the moment. She’d have to worry about it later, and hope that Muddy could hide from his hunter until she had time to chase the lead. 

For the moment, she had a cult to deal with. So she headed back outside and crossed the street to the Last Round.

Damsel, Skelter and Jack were waiting upstairs, all strapped with weapons. Damsel and Skelter gave her an appraising look. Jack just chuckled, clearly having already figured out the implication.

“Sewers,” was all she said. “You found another one?”

Skelter nodded.

“Crazy bastard had this on him,” he said, holding out a piece of paper. “Dam reckons she’s seen it before.”

There was a symbol emblazoned on the paper - a red sunburst with a white, fanged skull in the centre. It looked vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure she could place it. There was graffiti all over LA, after all, and it all looked the same when you weren’t paying attention.

“It’s not far,” Damsel interjected. “Hell, practically down the fucking street. Plan is to storm the place and clear them out before they make this worse. You in, Cammy?”

“Is Lacroix an arsewipe with a baguette up his arse?” she countered with a smirk.

The three of them grinned approvingly.

[]

Evie had always wondered what it was like to have a sword. Now that she had one, she wasn’t keen to relinquish it. It helped that it did a good job at keeping the shambling horde of creatures at a relative distance from herself as she took their heads off with a clean stroke.

Behind her, Jack had just torn one of the creatures in two with his bare hands, and Skelter pointed a flamethrower into a room and squeezed the trigger. A cacophony of awful shrieks erupted from inside, but he just slammed the half-rotted door shut and moved on. Damsel, meanwhile, was up ahead with a shotgun in hand, blasting her way through a ruined wall.

“Dumb fucking zombie motherfuckers!” she barked as she blasted a hole straight through a creature’s chest before kicking in some of the brickwork. “If this is what the sickness does to people, then we need to burn it out fast.”

She clambered through the hole she’d left behind, scanning the room beyond for signs of incoming trouble. For the moment they were clear, and she beckoned the others to follow.

“Paul had been dead a while, and he wasn’t nearly as lively as this bunch,” Evie pointed out as she climbed through.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t wake up again later,” Skelter shot back, fiddling with a valve on his flamethrower. “I’ll have someone head over to Skyline to deal with him and his girlfriend before it gets that far.”

The Anarchs had succeeded in locating the Brotherhood’s base of operations. The red sunburst had been sprayed on the side of an old, derelict building that had been declared unsafe and off limits years ago. Now it played host to the cult and their pet horde. 

A long, ominous wail echoed from down the hall and Damsel set her shoulders, raising her shotgun.

“Stay close,” she growled.

The halls of the building were crawling with filth and disease, and the shambling corpses didn’t do it any favours either. 

Jack seemed to be enjoying himself at any rate. So long as he got to rip something apart, he was happy, situational context be damned. He grabbed stray bits of rubble - broken glass and bricks - and smashed them into his chosen prey’s skull before tearing into their chest and tearing out their ribs. Not that it actually killed these things, he just toyed with the things like a particularly sadistic little kid plucking the legs off of an insect just because they could.

Evie ducked as a pair of hands grabbed at her through the shattered remains of a door, and she sliced them from their arms with a single swipe. The creatures shrieked in horror as a gout of blood erupted from their stumps and they staggered back into the room just as Skelter shoved the nozzle of his flamethrower in after them.

The burst of flame was accompanied by the stink of fuel, and Evie wrinkled her nose as she followed Damsel higher and higher up the building. 

For all the walking corpses and terrified humans, they’d yet to encounter a single Kindred. They knew there was at least one; Bishop Vick. A frightened girl just inside the door had told them a little about him, that he was the one in charge and was summoning members of his ‘flock’ to his sanctum. She hadn’t known where that sanctum could be found, but convincing her to leave hadn’t been a difficult task.

“Bastard’s probably at the top of the building,” Skelter had proposed with grim certainty. “They’re always at the top.”

So far he hadn’t been wrong. Despite having cleared a good few floors so far, they’d found nothing approaching a sanctum just yet. The likelihood of Vick being near the top was only growing more likely the higher they climbed.

So they kept climbing, pushing back against the twisted horde of sickness and decay they encountered - Jack played with his prey, Evie and Damsel killed them, and Skelter cleared out room after room with a spurt of flame, careful to keep the burn controlled so that he didn’t send the whole place up with them inside.

“Was a veteran in ‘Nam,” he elaborated when Evie commented on his efficiency. A dark look flickered over his features. “Learned a lot of sick tricks out there. At least here, they’re doing some good.”

She decided not to ask any further questions on the subject.

Finally they came to a set of double doors. Damsel took point with Skelter, and didn’t hesitate to boot open the door.

With a wooden crunch, it splintered and cracked, breaking inwards under the force before shattering as they were thrown into the walls inside, hinges wrenching from the frame upon impact, and they strode inside.

The hall was void of furniture or decoration. Instead there were only people huddled over, covered in blisters and sores, all facing the stage at the far end of the room. Rats scurried freely among them, nibbling off bits of decaying flesh from the worshippers, and flies buzzed in the air, laying their eggs wherever they found purchase. 

And standing on the stage, pale and bloodied and covered in sores with the red sunburst tattooed over his heart was Bishop Vick himself. He raised his arms as he regarded them with pale eyes and an unnerving smile.

“Welcome, Brothers and Sisters! I see you have all been Enlightened!” he greeted in a southern accent. “Are you searching for something? Do you seek the truth? Well, you have come to the right place. We’ve got more truth than you can handle.”

“Cut the crap,” Damsel snarled. “We know you’re the one spreading disease. Now come over here so I can blow your fucking head off!”

Vick just cocked his head to one side.

“In charge?” He laughed. “You say that like you think there’s someone who  _ can _ be in charge! I am but a Shepard of the Damned, your midnight guide through our last days on Earth. Can you feel it, Sister? The curtain being drawn back at last, by my hand, but the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle!”

Damsel opened her mouth to retort, but Skelter beat her to it.

“Last days? You mean Gehenna?”

Vick stared at him in amusement for a moment, then laughed. It was less of a laugh, but more like a hyena howling, but it was hard to mistake it for anything else.

“Gehenna? Judgement Day? The Apocalypse?” he guffawed. “Oh, Brother, you are too indoctrinated with the antiquated beliefs of this material world! There is no rhyme or reason, no all-powerful and terrible gods to watch over their children!

“You talk of disease, but what about the disease that you and I carry, our flesh remade into an abomination, feeding on our brothers and sisters like so many cattle? What god watched over me when that demon tore into my neck and made me into this monster you see before you?”

He shook his head mournfully.

“No, Brother. There is no god that would tolerate such a thing. And so I have become God, and the diseases I carry to the masses will bring about an end of my own making, until we have all journeyed below into the Ninth Circle.”

“Jesus, he’s giving me a headache,” Jack grumbled. “Can we yank out his jaw and stick him in the eye with it already? He’s giving me a headache.”

“You’re insane! If you feel so wronged by God for becoming a vampire, what kind of moral fucking high ground are you trying to claim by doing  _ this _ to people?” Evie spat.

But Vick just shook his head.

“The time for words has come and gone, Sister. You and I will take those last steps together, and see what truth lies behind the curtain.” Then he raised his arms into the air and grinned maniacally. “Let the night fall forever on this cursed Earth, and let the fruits of my labour bring a long and bloody harvest!”

It was only then that any of them spotted the strap at his shoulder, and as he took the shotgun in his arms his followers suddenly rose in unison, their blank eyes unseeing and yet still each finding the four Anarchs among them.

The walking corpses swarmed in, and at first it was pure chaos. Evie slashed at those closest to her with her sword, and atrophied innards began to pour out of the cuts like jelly that had been left out in the sun. The dead, half-liquid organs were accompanied by the stink of putrid flesh that made her eyes water, and she forced her blood away from her nose in a desperate attempt to dull that particular scent for the moment. And yet they kept pressing in as if she’d not given them so much as a paper cut.

Nearby, Jack was stomping on a pair of corpses into a paste on the ground, while Skelter alternated between slashing with potent claws and bursts from his flamethrower, rending the corpses open and then reducing them to burned out husks that crumbled under their own weight. He spotted Evie struggling and barked at her to back off. She did so in a hurry, letting the flames lick away at the corpses before leaping back in to deal the finishing blow.

Meanwhile Damsel was still making a concentrated effort to reach Vick. She was so furious that she barely seemed to notice the corpses trying to lunge at her - she kicked one to the ground like it was an afterthought, then put a nasty dent in another’s chest with the butt of her shotgun, all while never taking her eyes off of Vick, who flitted at the edge of the battlefield, shotgun ready and yet never directly entering the fray.

A break in the swarm appeared, and Evie lunged for it, ducking and rolling through the gap in the rotting bodies. 

As one of the walking corpses tried to turn and grab her, she slashed it behind the knees and it collapsed under its own weight, shrieking and wailing as it grasped at its fellows for purchase. It went ignored.

Free of the swarm, she scanned the room for Vick. He was in the far corner, shotgun at the ready and aiming for Damsel who kept her murderous gaze fixed solely on him as she kicked and pummelled and fired her way through the throng of rotting bodies.

She skirted at the edge of the room, hoping that the stink of herself was buried by the rot of the corpses and the reek of disease that had layered itself thick over every inch of this church of the damned and sickly. There was a crack of the shotgun and Damsel momentarily vanished beneath the swarm, and for a gut-wrenching moment, Evie feared the worst.

But then the beret and fiery red hair resurfaced, and the Den Mother fired back. There was a crack followed by a burst of burning white that was accompanied by the overwhelming stench of burning flesh and… something akin to garlic. 

Suddenly the corpses around Damsel scattered, shrieking and clawing at their flesh as it burned and warped. Steam rolled off of them in thick plumes, and Vick faltered in horror as he realised exactly what was happening.

“What have you done?!” he roared.

“Phosphorus, asshole!” Damsel shot back, pumping the shotgun, ready for the next round.

Vick flitted out of her path at the last moment as the phosphorus-filled shell exploded over the wall behind him. But he was so focused on Damsel, he’d failed to spot the Fledgling closing in on him.

Skelter fired another controlled burst of flame over the walking corpses, and cut down another three with his claws, while Jack shoved his hand through an exposed ribcage and tore out a heart that began to melt in his hand.

Damsel reloaded her shotgun as Vick aimed his. But she just grinned viciously at him.

“Now Cammy!”

He started, but didn’t get the chance to flit away before Evie shoved her sword into the side of his get and dragged it out through his front, spilling his insides. Vick screamed, lurching away from Evie, who was all too happy to step out of range.

Another burst of fire erupted, and Jack was now slinging organs left and right, which exploded wherever they made contact. The swarm was thinning and scattering, as whatever control Vick had slipped; some made a run for the exit, while others fled for abandoned corners of the room, or simply seemed to forget where they were and stood still, gazing around blindly.

Damsel, however, paid them no mind. Vick propped himself up against the wall, trembling as he tried to raise his shotgun. She knocked it aside with casual ease and held the barrel to Vick’s head.

“This is our city, Bishop Shithead,” she hissed. Then she squeezed the trigger.

Vick’s head splattered up the wall in a haze of red, a mist of white powder, and a lingering aroma of garlic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda forgot how to write fight scenes in this chapter, but with any luck they're not too horrendous XD


	15. Mortal Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Kindred had mortal ties once, and Evie isn't the only one seeking out connection.

The crystalline doors swung open, revealing Strauss sitting in an armchair before the fireplace with a leather-bound book open in his hand. He lifted his gaze from the page as Evie approached, ragged and damn, but otherwise alive and mostly whole. The stink of phosphorus still clung to her given her proximity to Vick when Damsel had killed him, but it wasn’t enough to cloak the stench of sewage.

At least Strauss had the decency to not look disgusted.

“Welcome back, Neonate,” he greeted, closing his book. “I can see that you have been busy tonight.”

“I have. I solved our problem with the epidemic,” she explained. “It wasn’t the Anarchs, but a cult of Plaguebearers. They were led by a Kindred called Bishop Vick, who wanted to bring about the end of the world. After he was Embraced, he was convinced there were no gods and so decided to ‘become’ God.”

She shook her head.

“Seems like he wasn’t dealing well with being turned.”

Strauss cocked a brow, looking mildly curious.

“I see. That end may very well be upon us, but not at this… Bishop’s hands.” He shook his head and rose from his seat, setting his book down on the coffee table. “But to business. I have a debt to pay for your services.

“If you desire, I can give to you a unique talisman that might be of use in future. If that does not interest you, I can reward you in hard cash. The choice is your’s.”

Evie pursed her lips and weighed the options. Money could always be useful, whether in obtaining weapons or blood bags, or the cooperation of others. But a unique talisman… How often would she get the opportunity to have something like that in her possession?

“I’ll take the talisman,” she answered, then added, “please.”

Strauss smiled, his eyes crinkling with pride.

“A wise decision, Neonate. True power lies not in wealth, but that which it affords you. I hope this talisman serves you well.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a leather cord from which hung a stone that was red as blood. He handed it over and she carefully laced it around her neck. The stone rested against her skin and her blood reacted to it in a way that could be described as pleasant. Her skin warmed against it, and her blood tingled, drawing the warmth away from the spot and spreading it through her body. 

And with warmth, came a feeling of ease. Her tense muscles relaxed and uncoiled in her back, and she felt the half-healed wounds in her arms tingle as they knitted together a little more.

She smiled up at Strauss gratefully.

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He returned to his book as she departed, and Evie departed the Chantry. A glance at her phone revealed that dawn was drawing in. It was time to head home for the day. As she flagged down a taxi, she wondered if perhaps Strauss had a point. Maybe the Camarilla wasn’t quite so bad as Lacroix made it seem.

But, she reminded herself as she climbed into the back seat, Strauss hadn’t been the one to stand up for her in the courtroom. It had taken Nines speaking out to get others to join in his protest, and even then, Strauss hadn’t been among them.

And that was the crucial difference. Welcoming as the Regent had been, he wouldn’t have lost sleep if she’d lost her head that night.

She made it to Santa Monica with a couple of hours to spare until dawn, which gave her plenty of time to shower, heal her wounds properly, and top up her blood levels. She climbed out of the taxi and beelined for her haven. Had she been paying attention to her surroundings, and if her sense of smell wasn’t preoccupied with the stench of sewage that clung to her, she might have noticed a hooded woman watching her from the corner near the smoke shop.

Instead she arrived home and took the stairs two at a time. Aside from the creak of the stairs, there was only silence, meaning she was alone as always. Part of her had hoped that Sam would have stopped by, but she had to be patient in the meantime.

The water ran cold in the shower, which didn’t overly trouble her. Warm would have been preferable, but so long as she stopped stinking, she’d be happy. As for her clothes… she had less hope. She was beginning to build up a collection of ‘sewer wear’ that never got used after their first encounter with the tunnels.

Before she climbed into the shower, she turned on the tv and let the late night news run. It was, after all, best that she keep up to date on the goings on in the city.

“ _ A recent outbreak in highly contagious diseases in Downtown Los Angeles has CDC officials concerned that Los Angeles may be a hot zone for a deadly new type of communicable virus. Local hospitals started seeing a dramatic increase in the amount of patients with severe respiratory illness, and many doctors say that they may be ill-equipped to deal with the surging number of new cases. The CDC urges people in the Downtown area to exercise caution, and to seek medical treatment immediately if they exhibit symptoms that include: fever, hacking cough, nausea, rashes or sores, painful discharges, or sudden, sustained bleeding. _

“ _ Firefighters are trying to contain a flashfire in the Hollywood Hills this morning. Smoke and debris from a house fire alerted residents late last night. The fire had spread rapidly by the time that firefighters arrived due to brush and wind conditions. Fire officials expect the blaze to be extinguished within the next few hours, but are advising local homeowners in the area to evacuate. _

“ _ The search for an LA Sewer Worker is beginning to look grim as police and family begin their seventh night looking for Luis Salvadore after he failed to return home last Friday. Salvadore was last seen entering a manhole in Hollywood to carry out a routine inspection. Salvadore’s family is hopeful that the husband and father of three will return safely, and are urging anyone who might have seen Salvadore to contact the police.  _

“ _ Members of the public are concerned that Salvadore’s disappearance could be connected to the gruesome death of Evie Byrne, the teenager who was killed in a wild animal attack in Hollywood on October 20th. Some are even urging the police to reconsider the possibility of homicide, and continue to raise concerns regarding an unidentified individual that some believe was responsible for the attack. Police officials have reaffirmed the conclusions drawn from the Byrne Case, and insist that there is no connection between Byrne’s death and Salvadore’s disappearance besides their location. _ ”

A familiar wave of exhaustion drew over Evie as she fumbled to turn off the water. Dawn was drawing close, and it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. But she managed long enough as she dried her hair and pulled on a shirt. She double-checked the boards over the windows for any cracks, before finally crawling under the bedsheets where she instantly fell as still and cold as death itself.

…

There was a sharp rapping against the inside of her skull, like a woodpecker had taken up residence on the inside of her head. Then it stopped for a moment, and a far off voice called, “Evie? Evie, are you in there?”

_ Yes she was, and she wanted very much to be asleep right now _ , she thought grumpily as she turned on her side.

The rapping returned, more insistent than before.

“If this is some kind of joke, I swear to God, it’s  _ not  _ funny!”

It really wasn’t. She was still tired and groggy, and while some part of her knew it was nighttime now, it still felt too early to be rising. Just another hour was all she needed.

There was a metallic rattle of a door handle, and Evie scowled as once against the rapping on her skull- no, on her door resumed, more frantic than before. Then there was the distinctive stomp of a heeled boot on the floorboards.

“Evelyn Saoirse Byrne, if you are alive and ignoring me in there, I will _skin_ _you_!”

It was less the threat itself that woke her up, but the use of her full name. No one called her that anymore except-!

Suddenly she was wide awake. She more than recognised the voice at her door, sharp, demanding and desperate, and that was enough for her to scramble from the sheets and grab her jeans from the floor. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the door as she floundered for the door and wrenched it open.

Standing there was Sam.

Time slowed to a stop as they stared at one another with wide eyes, and Evie’s stomach dropped like a stone as she took in her friend’s face. Her golden-brown eyes were rimmed with dark shadows that belied lost sleep, and her curls had a haphazard look to them rather than her usual deliberate style. She’d forgone makeup, and had the look of someone who’d barely paused to check what she’d put on before rushing out of the house.

And no doubt Sam was staring back and seeing what had changed. The pallid skin, the yellow eyes, the edges of fangs just peeking out from below her lips… And something twisted in Evie’s stomach as she wondered if this had been a good idea after all-

“Oh my god,” Sam sobbed before yanking Evie into her arms.

That did it. They both broke down, sliding to the floor as they held each other tightly and cried. 

Had Sam always been so warm? Or was it because Evie had gotten so used to the absence of such contact? She didn’t know, she just felt the blood dripping down her cheeks as her body soaked up all the warmth it could get. Sam squeezed, her hand trailing through Evie’s damp hair and gripping tightly, as if to stop her from slipping away and disappearing again. Evie just held on for dear life, like Sam was the only anchor in port that would keep her from being swept out to sea.

She had missed this. Being held. After running away from home, every touch felt like a drop of water in a desert, every grain of affection a precious jewel that could so easily be taken away. Then she’d started living with Sam and it slowly became normal. A hand brushing over her hair, a quick kiss to the top of her head, a pat on her shoulder or a playful prod. She’d begun to forget how starved she’d been for it… and then her Embrace happened and she forgot how it felt.

Only now that she had it back did she realise how alone she’d felt. So isolated and cut off from everyone else. Nines’ departure and the icy reception she now received from the other Anarchs only amplified it. What she wouldn’t give to keep this feeling…

All too soon, Sam pulled out and held her by the shoulders, peering at her face.

“Where the hell have you been?!” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how scared-”

She stopped dead at the sight of the bloody tears and her face blanched. Evie quickly swiped at her tears, but it was far too late. Sam had already seen.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Are you sick? Have you been to the clinic?”

Evie tried to raise her hands to placate her, though it was a half-hearted effort. She knew this wasn’t going to be something that would go down easy.

“Sam, please, I’m okay-”

“Your eyes are  _ bleeding _ , that’s not okay!” Sam interrupted, swiftly getting to her feet and guiding her up with her. “Come on, we should get you to a doctor. If you have this virus that’s going around-”

“No!” Evie grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged her back away from the stairs, back through the doorway. “Sam, I swear, I can explain everything but. It’s a lot. And-”

“A lot?!” Sam stared at her in disbelief. “Evie, I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking you were  _ dead _ ! We all have! I had to take Jen to the hospital because she had a breakdown! I’ve had to stay with her to make sure she doesn’t do something to herself!”

Evie winced. Jen… God she hadn’t even considered how deeply her other friends were hurting right now. Sam had always been her first port of call for just about anything.

“And now you’re bleeding from the eyes, and I’m supposed to stand here and listen to-”

“ _ Yes _ !” Evie cut over pleadingly. “Please Sam, you need to listen to what I have to tell you. It’s important, but…”

“But what?” Sam huffed as she hesitated. “Evie, what is going on?”

Evie bit her lip and steeled herself. It was now or never, and there was no going back to never. So she drew a deep breath, set her jaw, and looked Sam dead in the eye.

“I’m a vampire.”

[]

The rain hammered softly against the windows of the apartment, filling the heavy silence. The hum of a car engine and splashing of tires through puddles punctuated it occasionally, and the lights of the clinic across the street were dampened by the single bulb that illuminated the apartment.

Sam had listened intently as Evie told her story, but something in her eyes said that she wasn’t quite ready to believe it. She sat on the edge of the soiled mattress, her fingers curled over its edge as she processed. Evie sat cross-legged beside her, fingers locking together as she fidgeted.

“So… you did die that night,” Sam said slowly, “but you came back?”

“More or less.”

“And this Lacroix. He had you blow up that warehouse?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s had you running around the city, getting into all kinds of dangerous situations, because he needed someone to do it for him?”

Her voice was beginning to grow hot with anger, and while it would be funny to see Sam kick Lacroix’s arse, she doubted that it was a realistic outcome of such an encounter. Best not to give her ideas.

“To be fair, he only told me to do a couple,” she explained. “Sometimes it was someone else, or I just stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Sam snapped, suddenly whirling on her. “You’re a child Evie, and he’s supposed to be responsible for you! Hell,  _ I’m _ supposed to be responsible for you!”

She shot to her feet and began pacing. 

“It’s just- I’m expected to believe that you’re a  _ vampire _ of all things, and that there’s an entire secret society of them manipulating everyone and everything?” she said exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair. “Evie, this is either an incredibly bad joke, or-”

“Hey, if I was going to prank you, I wouldn’t do something nearly as nasty as faking my own death,” Evie pointed out. 

Sam paused.

“Good point,” she sighed, briefly nodding her head to one side in agreement. Then she flapped her arms at her sides, as if trying to scrounge up something that made sense. “But this is-”

“A lot. I told you it was.”

The silence returned, with only the patter of the rain to fill it. To be fair, she was taking it better than expected. Evie had half expected to be ignored or called crazy or dragged to the doctor’s office immediately, which would then infinitely complicate the situation. After all, how else did you explain someone crying blood while completely lacking a working heart?

Sam flopped back down to sit on the bed, her hands in her lap.

“So… what now?” she asked in a small voice. “Are you going to stay here? Keep doing this… vampire thing?”

“I mean… I’m a vampire wherever I go,” Evie sighed, only half-joking. “Still… I dunno. Lacroix kicked me out, but the Anarchs are trying to make things better for us here. I can’t just ignore it.”

They sat for a while, both mulling over the situation they’d found themselves in. Guilt twisted in Evie’s gut as she wondered again if this had been a good idea. Dumping all of this on Sam… she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done it for good reasons or because she didn’t want to be alone anymore. Would it have been better to leave Sam out of it?

“Okay, so maybe you keep doing this vampire thing, but y’know that doesn’t mean you need to stay in this shithole.” Sam wrinkled her nose as she cast a glance over the space. Then she looked over at Evie with soft eyes. “I’m sure you already know this, but I left your stuff like it was. Not moved a thing.”

Evie grinned weakly back at her.

“Yeah, I saw. But.” She looked back around the room. “Maybe I’ll keep this place. For the vampire stuff.”

She gestured to her laptop and the fridge where she kept her precious supply of blood packs. After all, Sam was more likely to have guests than her. If they found blood packs in her fridge, there would be a lot of questions. And Sam seemed to have the same thought.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she giggled. “I don’t need Jen or Vince thinking I’ve got some weird kink or something.”

Evie opened his mouth to respond when her phone buzzed and she looked at it curiously. There was a message from a sender identified only as ‘a friend.’ She frowned - it struck her as familiar somehow, yet she struggled to put her finger on it. 

“One of your fanged friends wants something?” Sam asked as Evie opened the message.

“A sacrifice. A bishop is sacrificed for the king,” she read aloud, her frown deepening. “From a Friend.”

Sam cocked her head to one side and put her hands on her hips.

“Is that… vampire code or something?” 

“I don’t know,” Evie replied honestly, searching her memory. “I’ve had a couple of messages like this. Really cryptic, talking about a king and a pawn. Now there’s a bishop?”

She hadn’t given these messages a lot of thought before. The pawn being moved, the white king moving to protect the pawn, and now a bishop being sacrificed… She got the feeling she was supposed to be seeing the bigger pattern.

Sam cupped her chin and delved into thought, as she always did like when she was trying to figure out what would happen next in her favourite shows. Except she somehow looked even more serious than she usually did. She asked to hear what each of the messages said, and Evie read them out.

“Okay, so let’s assume you’re the Pawn in this scenario, and that this Lacroix is the White King,” she said, resuming her pacing of the room. “You’re moved onto the board, but there’s no mention of the King, so we could take that to mean someone else placed you on the board. Probably the asshole who did this to you.

“Lacroix then ‘protects’ you somehow, maybe in some way we don’t know about yet,” she went on. “Then Lacroix sacrifices this Bishop to further his own ends-”

“Grout!” Evie exclaimed, suddenly alight with excitement. “Grout was dead when I found him in his mansion, and someone posing as Nines was the one who killed him! What if they did it on Lacroix’s orders?”

“Maybe,” Sam concurred. “These messages could be corresponding with events in LA that are connected to you. Which means someone is watching you. Maybe they’re trying to warn you about Lacroix?”

“Maybe. But who?” 

It wasn’t the Anarchs’ style to be so cryptic, and Strauss’ had been straightforward enough when they’d met. Therese and Jeanette didn’t tend to speak in metaphors either, but Lacroix wasn’t going to send her such messages that could hint at a treacherous nature. She really had no idea who could be responsible, and Sam was no more informed than she was.

“Honestly Evie, I don’t think the ‘who’ matters too much right now,” she sighed. “I think it’s just a reason to be careful when it comes to Lacroix. If he is this White King, he’s obviously up to something big, and it involves the Ankaran Sarcophagus.”

Evie nodded. That made sense. He’d wanted her to steal it for him, to bring it into ‘protective custody’ but Strauss had been quite clear that Lacroix’s interests were a bit more self-involved than they ought to be for a Prince. Still, it wasn’t like there was much she could do. Stealing the Sarcophagus was hardly an option - she had nowhere to hide it from him. And what was she supposed to do? Hide in the museum and chase off anyone who tried to steal it? 

Well, okay, it might be fun to hide out in the museum and have the running of it at night, but would get very complicated if someone found her during the day when she was passable for dead. It was probably for the best that she just stayed away from the Sarcophagus and just kept doing what she was best at: sticking her nose where it didn’t belong-!

“Shit!” 

She leapt to her feet and fumbled for her jacket which had made its way under the bed since she’d stripped it off last night.

“What?” Sam followed her. “Evie, what is it?”

“Do you know where the Luckee Star Motel is?” Evie asked urgently as she pulled something out from the pocket.

Sam frowned, blinked, and then said, “uh, it’s in Hollywood. Why?”

Evie held out the keycard.  _ Luckee Star - Room 6 _ was printed on the plastic, with a pink neon star decorating the front.

“Because a man called Muddy is staying there, and there’s a serial killer after him.”

[]

“I cannot believe you’re trying to go after a serial killer,” Sam groaned as she drove down the highway, the glittering lights of Hollywood glowing closer and closer. “Seriously Evie, you’ve been doing  _ bounty _ work?”

“Like I said, I’ve been sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Though Arthur doesn’t exactly know I’m still looking for Muddy. Didn’t even know he was being targeted until his pal Milton got killed last night.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Before last night, Muddy had just been a bail jumper in trouble with Kilpatrick and his bounty hunters. Now he was the target of a Kindred with a grudge who’d evidently been killing for a while now and had some pretty specific targets in mind. 

Whatever Muddy had done, she knew from experience that he’d probably didn’t deserve to be torn to shreds like that.

They pulled up down an all too familiar Hollywood strip, passing by the Asp Hole. The carved, serpentine pillars sent shivers down her spine, and it wasn’t just because it felt like their gemstone eyes were staring at her.

The car drew up outside the Luckee Star; the building was made from smooth yellow stone, and the sign was hung up outside; the name was written in pink neon with a bright yellow star below it. A pair of palm trees framed the double doors leading inside, and there were broad windows that were covered over by curtains inside. It looked like it had been nice once.

Evie slung her sword over her back and then pulled on her bag before she climbed out of the car. Sam followed.

“You should probably wait here,” Evie warned. “If this guy is a Gangrel like I think-”

“Then I’m not leaving you to go up against him alone,” she cut over. “Just give me a weapon, and I can watch your back.”

Evie nodded hesitantly, glanced around, and then discreetly passed the silenced pistol to Sam.

“Come on. I just hope we’re not too late.”

They headed inside. The lobby was nice enough, a few sofas and a woven rug to the left and the front desk to the right. The Deb of Night buzzed in the background, and standing at the desk was a guy who could only be a few years older than Evie, wearing a white and blue tracksuit jacket. He grinned at them, but otherwise his attention remained on his computer.

No sense in wasting time or drawing attention, so they just walked on through. If the guy had a problem with that, he didn’t say a word.

Beyond the lobby were more palm trees, and a large drained pool that had clearly not been cleaned in some time going by the amount of debris in the bottom. Leaves, junk, bits of broken glass - none of it was attractive, which lended to the idea that whatever glamorous past the Star may have had once, it had long since faded.

A pair of stairs curved up over the lobby to the red-tiled walkway that was lined with the rooms that were on offer. They were looking for number six, but Evie paused and listened. It was muffled, but she heard it.

“...thought you’d get away with it, did you? Thought I’d never find you!”

“Someone, help! He’s crazy!” was the strangled reply.

Evie tore her sword from its sheath and took the stairs two at a time, with Sam close at her heels. She reached the top of the stairs, following the muffled voices to a door with a weather-worn six nailed to the door.

She swiped the keycard and booted it open.

Long claws held Muddy by the throat and kept him dangling a foot off of the ground. His attacker, the man in the black hoodie, shot a dark look over his shoulder as Evie and Sam stepped into the room, weapons ready.

“Let him go,” Evie ordered, glowering at him,

“Shit,” the Killer hissed.

He squeezed, his claws piercing Muddy’s throat before he threw the man to the floor, and then without a backwards look he sprinted for the tiny window at the back of the room. Evie ran after him, jumping over Muddy, but it was too late. He barrelled out through the window in a shower of glass and took off at a dead sprint into the dark. The gloom swallowed him up, and he was gone.

“Fuck!”

Evie turned back to the room, Sam was kneeling beside Muddy with her steady hands pressed firmly against the deep marks in his neck. She looked up at Evie and gestured to the bed.

“The sheets, they might be able to stem the bleeding,” she ordered.

Evie did as she was told, but there was death in the air, and too much blood was pouring out. She knew well enough that the Killer had severed an artery. Muddy would bleed out and there was nothing else to be done.

And Sam knew it too, because she didn’t call for an ambulance or demand Evie fetch an ambulance. She just focused on the dying Muddy.

“S-sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick and wet. “D-deserve this.”

“Why do you think you deserved this, Muddy?” Sam asked gently, which was at odds with the firm grip of her bloody hands over the stained white sheets she held at his ruined throat.

“K-knew him…” he gasped. “Robbed him… years ago… stole his car… his family they… I-”

He choked on a mouthful of blood and coughed hard, and it took everything Evie had to resist the urge to feed. Instead she just watched silently, her sword held limp in her hand.

“Killed them,” he finally managed. “God the blood… Still feel it… Smell it… I… deserved this.”

Sam showed no reaction - not shock or disgust - she just kept her hands clasped over his throat.

“Sorry…”

He finally stopped moving and the blood stopped flowing. Sam lifted her hands which were trembling slightly as she slumped, shaking her head.

“Killed a family for a car,” she murmured under her breath. “The kinds of shit people will do for a bit of money, only for it to catch up and kill them.”

Evie said nothing. Considering what she’d spent the last few weeks doing, she’d seen people do far worse things for far less. It felt wrong to judge Muddy without knowing the whole story but… a  _ family _ . Suddenly the Killer’s motives, his rage, it made sense. His other victims had to have been involved.

But that wasn’t an excuse for cold-blooded murder, or risking exposure the way he had. He’d put every Kindred in LA at risk in his quest for vengeance, and he was damned lucky that his only mortal witness was one of the least credible types of people.

She looked around the room and sniffed. With the thick, tantalizing aroma of Muddy’s blood filling the room, it was hard to pick out anything too distinct, but she did catch a flicker of  _ something _ . Oil, dried blood, rust, and dirt...

The source was in the bathroom. A business card with a rundown, derelict car printed on the front with the name ‘Brothers’ Salvage’ printed above it, and below it was ‘Santa Monica 555 - 1212.’

“Find something?” Sam called, an edge of weary resignation in her voice.

“I think so,” Evie replied as she stepped out, holding out the card. “Don’t know if he’ll be there long though.”

Sam took one look at the card and nodded.

“We should probably let that guy at the desk know that he’s got a body up here.”

“Right.” 

It came out as a short, but hard sigh. She didn’t want to know how they were supposed to explain this, and she didn’t want to especially have to stand around giving the police an eyewitness account when the Killer was out there and would undoubtedly be looking to clear out of LA before she caught up to him.

As it so happened, she needn’t have worried. The manager at the desk seemed barely troubled, simply remarking that it was ‘early’ for a body and that he’d call the police, but expected them to take their time.

‘Protect and Serve’ didn’t carry much weight anywhere these nights, among Kindred and Kine alike.

[]

They rolled up at the Brothers’ Salvage and noticed that someone had forgotten to chain the wire-link fence behind them tonight. Evie pulled it back just wide enough for them both to slip through without drawing too much attention.

The rain had washed away any blood trails and the sweet scent it left behind, which meant that they would be hunting tonight. The office served as the main point of entry into the yard itself, so they stepped inside. 

And as they did, a man stepped in from the scrap yard. He gazed at them passively, and Evie stared as she tried to place him.

He was dark haired with a beard and his hair was slicked back. He wore a pale reddy-brown coat with a fleece lining over a black t-shirt, skinny jeans that were artfully torn at the knees, and a sturdy pair of boots. He also had a crucifix hanging from a long silver chain around his neck.

Then he raised a hand and just like that, he vanished into a black mist.

“What the hell was  _ that _ ?!” Sam swore, staring at the spot he’d just occupied.

“No idea,” Evie breathed, “but I do remember where I’ve seen him before.”

Sam rounded on her, blinking quizzically.

“You’ve seen him before?”

Evie nodded.

“I was coming back from the Ocean House Hotel,” she explained slowly. “And I nearly ran into someone. But just as I was apologising, he vanished. He’s the only person I’ve ever seen do something like that.”

Sam looked concerned, glancing from Evie to the spot the man had occupied, and then to the window that had been behind him.

“Yeah, well maybe you were a little preoccupied, but I’m pretty sure that guy didn’t have a reflection,” she pointed out. “He didn’t show up in the mirror at all.”

“Weird. Maybe a kind of Kindred,” Evie murmured, mostly to herself. “I dunno if he’s watching me, or if we’re just ending up in the same places at the same time, but I bet he was just having a chat with our Gangrel friend out there.”

“Right… So. what do we do?”

Evie glanced from the door, to Sam and then around the office, weighing pros and cons and trying to figure out the best way to approach this problem.

Sam was tough, there was no denying that. She knew how to handle shit being thrown at her, and she’d learned young that the world was an ugly place. She’d never been under any illusions that someday, she might have to fight for her life. But that was against humans. If a fight broke out with the Southland Slasher, she wasn’t exactly prepared for that.

There was a wooden chair in the corner with a crooked, broken leg, and it gave her an idea.

“Okay. Sam, I need you to stay here and cover the exit,” she instructed firmly, already sensing her friend opening her mouth. “I wanna try and talk this guy down, but if he runs, we can’t let him get away.”

She grabbed the broken leg of the chair and wrenched it free, then started tearing at the broken end to force it to resemble a sharpened point. It was messy and uneven, but would do the job well enough.

“You’ll probably need to stake him,” she continued, handing the improvised stake to Sam. “If you can shove this through his heart, it’ll paralyse him and then I guess we’ll take him to Therese. If we’re lucky, you won’t even need it, but better safe than sorry.”

Somehow she looked less sure about this than she had the gun, but Evie supposed that it was one thing to shoot a killer. It was another to be told that you could ram a bit of wood through their chest and only paralyse them.

“Uh, okay. Evie, are you sure about-?”

“Sam, I have been doing this for nearly a month now,” Evie cut over firmly. “You have only known that I am alive for a day. Trust me, I can handle this.”

Sam hesitated, but then nodded slowly and gripped the improvised stake tightly.

“You get fifteen minutes. Then I’m coming after you.”

That was enough time. Evie exited the office the way the strange vampire had come in, stepping back out into the rain.

The yard was a maze of old, scrapped cars - or rather their rusted metal shells. Engines, tyres, seats, everything that could still be of any use and salvaged had been torn out and the rest had been left behind to rot and gather dust. And they were arranged in towering walls, almost precariously balanced to form a path leading further in.

The rain made it hard to sick up scents, but Evie caught enough of a whiff to know that she wasn’t alone. A quick upward glance and she spotted a hooded silhouette atop the walls of the maze. And she saw claws begin to elongate from their hands.

_ RUN! _

Evie broke into a dead sprint at the smallest urging, just as the shell of an old Ford sailed through the air and smashed into the shells beside her with a metallic crunch and a loud  _ clang! _ as the wall tottered, tipped and began to crash down.

Above her to her left, she heard her quarry running at top speed along the wall, echoes on metal belying each footstep as the crashing behind her faded and stopped, and she spotted him jumping down to a burning barrel. The reek of oil filled her nostrils, and Evie skidded to a halt just as he kicked it down.

The fire rolled out across the ground like a blazing carpet of light, untroubled by the falling rain as it hungrily devoured every drop of oil it could get. And it kept Evie from reaching the Killer, who kept running.

Well, he wasn’t the only one who could climb.

Evie scrambled up the sides of the rusted old cars, barely pausing for footholds and purchase as she was all too aware of the ominous creaking the wall made as she climbed. Once she reached the top, she sniffed the air.

His scent was faint in this downpour, but it was there, and he was headed for the far side of the yard, and away from Sam which was a relief. She hadn’t actually wanted to put Sam at risk while taking this guy on.

She took off at a run, feeling her way across the wall and paying attention to every shift, every creak, while never taking her eyes off the prize.

_ Below. _

Sure enough he was there, sinking his claws into a loose shell that had been left tossed to one side. He bent his knees, lifted, and pushed up, hoisting it into the air before he tossed it like a javelin straight at her.

Evie just leapt to the next wall as the one behind her collapsed into a heap, and she continued her pursuit. 

Below her, the Killer raked his claws along the shells at the bottom of the wall, and the rusted steel buckled. The wall shifted and sagged, and Evie leapt back to the ground, hitting the mud hard.

The Killer passed her by, running hard for the crane at the heart of the scrap yard. Evie pushed off from her squatted position and followed at a breakneck pace.

They cleared the maze of scrap, and came to the clearing that surrounded the crane before the Killer let out a frustrated roar. He rounded on Evie, snarling and pointing at her with a long, clawed finger.

“Back the fuck off, Vampire!” he spat. “Stay the fuck back! I did nothing to you!”

“What’s the matter?” Evie challenged. “Scared now that it’s a fair fight?”

“I told you to fuck off!”

His shoulders were curled forward, his legs splayed apart. He was like a cornered animal, ready to lash out if he had to. 

“Then tell me why you did it!” she yelled. “You could have stabbed them, or shot them! Why the hell did you go and make your nature known? So you could feel like the big man, getting his revenge!”

His expression darkened and his claws curled.

“Why shouldn’t I? You vampires and your fucking rules, always hiding and pretending you’re any better than me, because I make use of what I was given!”

“By murdering people! Gutting them where anyone could see and not caring who finds out!” Evie shot back and taking a step forwards. “Then guess what happens: hunters! They show up and hunt us all down one by one; you say you’ve done nothing to me, but how the fuck would you know?!”

The Killer snarled and raised a clawed fist.

“You know why I did it? Why I  _ had _ to do it? Because-”

“Because Muddy and his friends murdered your family,” Evie interrupted harshly. “Because they were small-time crooks looking to line their pockets, and your family was in their way. I know because Muddy told me right before he died. And I  _ get it _ ! My brother was murdered right in front of me when I was a kid.”

There was a heavy pause, and it seemed that she really had caught the Killer off guard. It was the opening she needed, so she kept going.

“My so-called father turned around one day and beat him to death, and I couldn’t stop him! So you know what I did? I took his gun and I shot him! Right between the eyes!”

Pain blossomed in the back of her head just saying the words, but she pushed through it. She could still hear the screaming, smell the blood, felt the fear rising in her throat as she raced upstairs to her father’s room to grab the gun from his dresser. Not something he ought to have had, but he lived by his own rules.

She saw blood in his mouth, smeared over it, splattered across his white shirt in a bloody stain reminiscent of poppies. The crack resounded in her ears and the bullet split the bridge of the spectacles as it drove between eyes.

Evie drew a deep, trembling breath even as she shook from head to toe.

“I killed my father that day,” she said as evenly as she could. “And it didn’t bring my brother back. It didn’t make me feel better. And all I could do after that was run.

“So I get it. When it comes to the people you love dying like that, killing feels like it’s the only solution, the only way to make things right. But it hurts us in ways that we can’t imagine! What about your family? Would they want you to be doing this? Would they be proud to see what you’ve become? That you gave in to the Beast and became a monster?”

That hit a nerve.

The Killer’s eyes went wide and he started for her.

“Don’t you even fucking- No. No, I didn’t-! I wasn’t-!” He stopped dead and grasped his head in his hands, his eyes bulging in their sockets as blood began to pool at their corners. “I didn’t mean to- I was just trying to-!”

Evie stepped forward.

“I know. You wanted them to answer for it and you lost control,” she said evenly, keeping her voice low. “But it’s not too late to come back from this. You can take back your control, and do better by them.”

His hands dropped from his head, and he looked at her with uncertainty. For a moment she wasn’t sure it was  _ her _ that he was seeing.

“Please forgive me…”

Evie put a hand to his shoulder.

“It’s not my place to decide if you’re forgiven. But the Anarchs can show you how to work for forgiveness, teach you how to control yourself, and give you a cause to fight for.”

He nodded as bloody tears slid down his face.

“Okay.”

It was all he said before Evie led him back through the scrap yard. Damsel was just going to  _ love _ this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam, Sam, Sam!! :D ngl I'm already looking forward to writing her as a character and not as a one-time appearance ^^
> 
> Seriously though, if you're wondering about all the updates lately, I wish I could tell you. I'm just on a roll right now - maybe it's because my pc has gone to shit and so I have no video games to play, or because I'm getting back into VTM, but I'm just writing so much these last couple of weeks. I've even got plans for the final installment for this series because there are some characters I've developed and fleshed out and want to write... I'll admit though, I'm gonna have to rewrite the end of Blood and Trust, though that's fine by me because there's a lot I don't like about it atm, sooooooooooo that'll be something I'll be going back to in future once those plans are solid.
> 
> So yeah, pretty much can confirm that there will be a third installment of this story that fleshes out some additional stuff, it just won't be centred on Evie, so look forward to that eventually ;)


	16. Heist Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damsel has a plan to bring down the Camarilla, and to Evie's dismay, it includes a return to the Ivory Tower.

The ride back to the Last Round was awkward considering that there was a serial killer in the backseat. Sam was relieved that the affair had been resolved without bloodshed, but it was clear that she wasn’t all too certain about not turning the guy in. But she followed Evie’s lead for now, and soon enough they were outside the bar.

The Killer - Evie still didn’t know his name - climbed out of the car, which gave Evie a chance to turn to Sam.

“It’s probably best that the others don’t know about you for now,” she said. “They might not be the Camarilla, but they still take the Masquerade pretty seriously.”

Sam pursed her lips, but nodded.

“Fine. Just try not to be in there too long. This night has been… something else.”

It sure had been. Evie climbed out and led the Killer indoors. Had she been that bit sharper, she might have felt the eyes on her back, peering out from the shadows of the nearby alley next to the building where she’d found Milton’s body. And if she had noticed, she might have turned around and spotted the man in the long black coat from the previous night watching her. 

But she didn’t notice, and she didn’t see, just stepped inside.

The Anarchs still largely overlooked her, though there were a few curious gazes that drifted over her and her company, who kept his head down and didn’t make eye contact.

“Hey Skelter,” she called as she approached. “I got someone who needs your expertise.”

Skelter raised a brow and leaned up against his door frame.

“Is that so, Kid? My know-how on Gehenna, or just the usual Gangrel shit?”

His eyes flitted over the Killer, pausing briefly on the monstrous claws he had for hands, and it seemed that he’d put two and two together, so Evie gave him the short story. Namely that he’d lost control of the Beast, needed to learn control, and wanted a cause to fight for.

Skelter looked skeptical at best.

“Kid, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t go teaching every pup who hasn’t seen their first winter how to-”

“Five.”

Skelter paused, and he and Evie looked around at the Killer who shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

“I was turned five years ago,” he muttered.

Skelter looked surprised and even a little impressed.

“Shit. Five winters with no sire, no direction, and you don’t look like a Bigfoot? Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Newbie,” he snorted. He turned back to Evie who was grinning smugly. “Alright Kid, you win this round. By the way, Damsel was hoping you’d stop by. Pretty sure she’s up to something, so maybe go find out what she’s up to.”

Evie nodded and left her fellow Gangrel to it. She took the steps two at a time, and sure enough, Damsel was in her usual spot, though this time she had a laptop out. She glanced up and grinned at Evie, waving her over.

“Hey Cammy, I’ve got something I wanna run by you.”

Evie dropped herself into the seat beside Damsel and peered at the laptop screen, but Damsel slammed it shut before she got a good look. The most she saw was a chatroom of some kind.

“Just browsing the menu,” Damsel said airily. Then she continued, “so, I have to admit Cammy. I was wrong about you.”

“I’d hope so. If you weren’t, I’d either be dead or licking Lacroix’s boots,” she joked, and Damsel had to snigger.

“Too fucking true. You’ve got a real Anarch soul, Cammy. Taking down that cult took some real guts, and you rose to the challenge. And that’s why I think you’re perfect for what I have in mind.

“Listen, I know you told Lacroix where to stick the tip of your boot, but the way I see it, you’re our best chance to get someone on the inside. Find out what the bastard’s up to, learn his dirty little secrets, anything that could give us an edge on him. We get that, and we can bring him down a hell of a lot faster.”

Evie’s heart plummeted. 

“No.”

Damsel frowned.

“Oh come on, Cammy. Seriously?!”

“I’m not going back, Damsel,” Evie said firmly, feeling bile - or perhaps just blood - rising in the back of her throat. “I told Lacroix I was through and I meant it, there’s no way I’m going back to that arsehole!” Then she took a more pleading tone, “I belong here with the Anarchs! I don’t want to go back to him, please Damsel!”

Damsel’s frown twisted into a scowl.

“We don’t need another jeans show Fledgling pissing around the joint getting nothing done, Cammy. You’ve gotten more done in the last few weeks than some of that lot do in years, but it’s not worth shit if you’re not gonna carry it all the way!” She punched the palm of her hand. “The only way to take out Lacroix is to bring his power base crashing out from under him, and you’re our best shot to get it done fast!”

“But I hate him, and he knows I hate him,” she protested, desperation clawing at her now. “He’s not going to take me back, Damsel, and even if he did, he won’t trust me with anything.”

Damsel rolled her eyes.

“Seriously Cammy, enough of the excuses. You can either fight for the cause in every way you can, or you can piss around and pretend to be one of us. Your call.”

And just like that something changed. Like shifting sand - one moment the ground had felt relatively even beneath her feet, almost stable even, and the next she was sinking. Go back to Lacroix or be a burden… It wasn’t exactly a good choice to make either way.

Part of her wanted to punch Damsel in the nose. Another just wanted to curl up and cry, which would only further Damsel’s ire. There was no part of her, however, that thought this was a good idea. So she sighed and lifted her head.

“Fine… I won’t promise it’ll work out though,” she said in a low voice.

Damsel just punched her lightly in the shoulder.

“Great! With you on the inside, we’ll be running Lacroix out of town before the year’s even out!”

Evie nodded, but her whole body just felt like lead. Like she had just signed away her soul or something. She got to her feet and headed back outside to the car, where Sam was waiting, though she took a moment at the door to collect herself. No sense in causing any worry.

“So they’re taking him on?” Sam asked as Evie climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. They’re gonna teach him what he needs to know,” she said vaguely.

Sam frowned at her, pausing as she was about to drive.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Evie said. “Just… been a long night, y’know. After our talk and that mess at the scrap yard, I think I’m ready to call it here and get some sleep in a real bed.”

Sam didn’t look quite convinced, but didn’t press the issue any further. Instead she just lifted the clutch and pulled away, driving back through the streets with the radio turned down low. The rain streaked down the windshield as Evie stared out through it, trying not to think too hard about what she’d just agreed to.

From a logical perspective, she could see where Damsel was coming from. Having a spy keeping a close eye on Lacroix and keeping the Anarchs up to date on what he was up to wasn’t just useful, it was a powerful tool, maybe even a weapon. 

But just thinking about it made her stomach ball up in dread. The way his presence pressed in on her, how he so utterly encompassed her and forced her into submission with a single order. Lacroix wasn’t someone she’d typically think of as terrifying, but the way he belittled her, the fact he could have her killed with a click of his fingers, and how he could force his will upon her without trouble… It turned him from some stuck up pansy arsehole with a superiority complex to a genuine danger to her. And now she was _going back_. She was free, and now she was going back to him.

It was enough that she wanted to be sick, but she pressed the feeling down. She didn’t need that right now. So instead she just watched the world go by as Deb’s choice of song played out, accompanied by the patter on the roof of the car.

When they got back to Santa Monica, they stopped at the haven only to secure Evie’s weapons in a cupboard and lock it up before heading to Sam’s apartment. 

It looked different with the lights on. Like she was coming home, not sneaking in like she had last night. And she was, she supposed. And Damsel’s plan had spoilt it really. Just a few hours ago, she’d been _ecstatic_ at the idea of coming back to live with Sam and sleeping in her own bed again. Now she just felt sick and tired and in dire need of a good cry. 

But how was she supposed to tell Sam that she was going back to the Ivory Tower? Back into Lacroix’s clutches where he could control and belittle her again. To put it simply: she couldn’t. Not without running the risk of Sam doing something reckless that might get her hurt.

This was something she’d have to keep for herself for the time being, until the truth was unavoidable. It wasn’t ideal. None of it was.

“We should make sure that no sun gets into your room while you’re sleeping,” Sam mused. “The last thing we need is you burning up in bed.”

That snapped Evie out of her reverie, and she nodded stiffly before following Sam into her old bedroom. 

In the light, it also looked different. Still a little dusty, but nothing that she couldn’t clean up. While Sam experimented with covering the window, she tidied away her clothes she’d left on the bed and dumped the unfinished homework into the bin. It was a bit late to turn it in anyway.

She ventured back into the kitchen and returned with a duster, wiping away as much of the dust and as many of the cobwebs she could. If she didn’t do it now, she never would.

As the two worked around each other in silence, a strange sense of normality settled over them. It was almost like back when Sam was helping her settle into the room when she’d first arrived with Lee. Figuring out what she liked and how to put everything together. Curtains, furniture, and knick-knacks, they’d spent the first week bonding over this room. And here they were, figuring things out again.

Yet it wasn’t quite normal. Because everything had changed in the last month; not just themselves, but the entire world. Or rather, their reality had shifted and now they were seeing past the veil into the dark where dangerous and frightening things lurked. Things that didn’t care about the trauma of teenage girls or the ambitions of young women. Things that just wanted to use and discard them. And that knowledge tainted the silence somewhat.

“There. That should do it,” Sam said, placing her hands on her hips. “No more sunshine for you, MIss Byrne.”

Evie grinned weakly.

“Thanks Sam. You didn’t have to-”

“I know, I know. But I _wanted_ to.” She smiled and cupped Evie’s cheeks. “You’re basically my little sister, Evie. I want to help you, even if it’s with crazy vampire shit.”

The grin felt a little less weak, a little less like hard work as she hugged Sam tightly, and Sam hugged her back just as tight. It made things feel just a little easier, even if she was facing the worst tomorrow.

“I’m probably not going to be able to go anywhere with you tomorrow night because of work, so try not to get into too much trouble, okay? 

Well that would be helpful with going back to Lacroix and all, and Evie wouldn’t blame her if she just wanted to take a step back and gather herself after tonight. While the Southland Slasher had been no Plaguebearer, he had no doubt made things difficult to take in for someone new to all of this.

But then Evie’s introduction had been a trial and a Sabbat raid, so maybe there was no gentle introduction to this strange, terrifying side of reality.

Still she said nothing, just nodded and said goodnight before changing into pajamas for the first time in weeks and climbing into bed. And it was bizarre how much of a difference a thick, cozy duvet and a clean, springy mattress made in soothing the torrent of emotion that was swirling around in her head.

It wasn’t long before she was out cold for the day to come.

[]

Evie waited for Sam to goto bed, and then waited to be certain that she was fast asleep before leaving the apartment for the night. Her stomach was in knots, and a feeling of dread had taken up permanent residence in her chest, like there was a ball of lead trapped inside.

She flagged down a taxi and took a ride straight to the Venture Tower. Chunk looked quite surprised to see her.

“Oh hey there, Missy,” he greeted. “I was wondering when you’d be coming by again. When you left last time, you looked fierce upset, and Mr Lacroix was none too happy either. Having a bit of a sibling spat?”

Right. He assumed they were related.

“Something like that,” she sighed. “I was hoping to talk it out with him. Could you let me up?”

“Uh, I’ll have to buzz Mr Lacroix and ask. Hang on.” He depressed a button on the desk and leaned over to the speaker. “Mr Lacroix, you’ve got a visitor wanting to come talk to you. Y’know, the young lady you call- Oh, yessir, right away!” 

He straightened up and smiled brightly at Evie.

“You go right on up, Missy. Mr Lacroix would like you in his office on the double!”

“Great. Thanks Chunk.”

He gave her a thumbs up as she headed for the elevators, and she at least tried to grin back at him but it was hard. It would have been easier if Chunk had just turned her away and said that Lacroix had forbidden her from his office. At least then she could go back to Damsel and tell her that things hadn’t worked out. Instead she was headed straight into the lion’s den, and it was hard to keep from vomiting all over her shoes.

After an agonising climb, the elevator finally came to a halt, and she was back in those disorienting corridors again. She made it to the antechamber door and, after a moment of regret and hesitation, she knocked on the door.

There was a long wait before the Sheriff arrived at the door and allowed her inside. So Lacroix hadn’t just called her up so he could have her beheaded out of the view of any employees? Good to know. 

As always, the Sheriff took her weapons before letting her into the office itself. Lacroix was at his desk, and he paused from the paperwork he had been working through to regard her coolly. He made a point of returning his attention to the form before him and finishing what he was doing before setting his pen down.

“You understand that this gesture is an olive branch, yes?” he said primly, lacing his fingers together. “My forgiveness is not something lightly given, and I may not extend it again. The reason I _am_ extending it is due to your surpassing my expectations in previous assignments, and I require you to surpass them again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said stiffly. “So, is this about the museum, or have we moved on from there since I’ve been gone?”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Unfortunately we are still stuck in regards to the museum,” he sighed. “So far, the owners have been preoccupied with installing and testing new security systems, and so the first study of the Sarcophagus is scheduled for tomorrow morning. It must be in our possession before then.”

She swallowed. Time to be convincing.

“Then it’s a good thing that I came back when I did. What are your instructions?”

She sounded stiff and her voice was a little thick. It was obvious there was not full conviction behind her words. Lacroix regarded her for a moment, as if he was analysing her.

“You don’t like me.” That was to the point. He then rose to his feet, waving a hand as he stepped over towards the windows. “I can be a bit harsh at times, but you must remember that the responsibility of this city’s Kindred rests on my shoulders. So naturally, I cannot always be a patient man. But you have been of service, and it is appreciated.”

She didn’t believe him in the slightest, but for now it would have to be their middleground. Not liking each other, but tolerating one another to get the job done. She could at least make that work.

“And you’ve continued to serve, even after our spat.” He turned back to her. “The Regent told me about how you dealt with the Plaguebearer Cult, this ‘Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle.’” 

He waved a hand at mention of the name, as if it was some ridiculous notion to be brushed off. Considering what she’d seen in Vick’s ‘church’ the Brotherhood were a little more deserving of credit. They had proven dangerous after all.

“Strauss asked for my help, I provided,” Evie said shortly. “The Plaguebearers were a threat to us all.”

He nodded with something that approached approval.

“A good attitude to have. If only more shared it. Now. Onto business. I’m sure you recall that the manifest from the Dane told us that there was a small box on the Dane that was reported missing. I want you to keep an eye out for it, but the Sarcophagus is your top priority.”

He reached into the desk drawer and produced a large brass key.

“This is the key to the front door of the museum,” he said as he held it out to her. “The Sarcophagus should be in an examination room of some sort. There’s a small security staff on sight, but I don’t want a massacre. Mortals are just as easy to deceive as they are to kill. One or two, but that’s _all_.”

Evie took the key and pocketed it.

“Understood, it won’t be a problem.”

“Excellent. Bring the Sarcophagus back here, and then we will determine our next step.”

The Sheriff saw her back out, returning her weapons as always. His expression was as blank as ever.

“Did he send anyone else to steal the Sarcophagus since I left?” she asked.

The Sheriff shook his head.

“Weird. He made it sound really important to get it as soon as possible,” she mused. “He didn’t even send you?”

Another shake of his head. Still a man of few words, it seemed.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later.”

She turned to walk away, before a finger tapped her on the shoulder. Frowning, she turned back to the Sheriff who paused for a moment, and then signed with his hands, “be careful. The Prince expects success from you.”

She blinked and nodded, too shocked to comment on the fact that he had, in fact, just communicated beyond a nod or a shake. The Anarchs had sworn up and down that the Sheriff communicated with no one for any reason, and yet he had just done so. And he looked almost a little uncomfortable about it, as he didn’t see her to the door, just disappeared back into the office with unusually hunched shoulders. 

And with that shocking development, she began the trip back down the tower.

[]

There was a single security guard in the museum car park’s toll booth, watching the street beyond for any signs of loiterers who might have less than academic intentions for trying to visit the museum so late at night. However his back was turned to Evie, who clambered over the wall that blocked in the car park and dropped to the tarmac on the other side.

Seeing that he didn’t raise his head or turn around, it was a safe assumption that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, so she approached the museum, keeping her eyes open for any security cameras or additional watchmen she might have missed while watching the mostly empty stretch of tarmac.

Whatever security the owners had had set up was likely inside, because there was nothing of the sort outside.

Banners displaying the current exhibits on display were hung across the front of the grand building, with its sweeping staircase leading up to the front doors. Evie scampered up the steps and ducked into the entryway, then scanned the car park again. 

The security guard still hadn’t left his booth. He hadn’t noticed a thing then. She turned towards the doors when she heard a high-pitched chirp above her. She looked up at the lantern hanging overheard.

And hanging from the lantern was a very familiar, very large black bat. It was watching her with beady black eyes and tilted its head to one side. And she got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t a regular bat.

“Beckett?” she asked tentatively.

The bat chirped again then fluttered down to the ground. It suddenly swelled like a balloon and changed shape, and sure enough she found the Noddist standing before her.

“Good evening, Young One,” he greeted smoothly with a wry smile. “Now what might you be doing here so late at night?”

“Probably the same reason you are,” she pointed out. “You didn’t tell me you were a historian.”

He tilted his head in mild surprise, but looked rather pleased nonetheless.

“Of a sort. Though Anthropologist would be a more accurate term. Still, I am a little surprised that you have come to find the Ankaran Sarcophagus, Young One. I was under the impression that you were preoccupied with matters a little closer to home.”

She frowned and cocked her head, then realised what he meant. The Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle. Right, he probably would have heard about that by now. When an epidemic concerned the local Kindred, it probably concerned visitors too. No need to go carrying a deadly virus to other places, right?

Then she scratched the back of her neck.

“I’m here for Lacroix,” she said sheepishly. “He says that the Sarcophagus needs to be ‘under Camarilla protection.’”

That got his interest.

“I see. So you’re here to steal it.”

She flushed and stared hard at her feet like the paving stones were suddenly much more interesting than talking to him. 

“I suppose it would be easier to gain the Prince’s permission to study the Sarcophagus in detail over the museum owner’s,” he continued breezily, as if he had merely commented on the weather. “So it would only be right that we work together, yes?”

Her head snapped back up and she stared at him in confusion. He wanted to work with her? Not just find the Sarcophagus himself and leave her to play catch up? That was… unexpected.

“Uh, sure.” She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out the brass key. “I’ll get the door.”

She fumbled for a second as she inserted the key into the lock and eased it open. No alarms immediately went off, or at least no audible ones. Still she stayed alert as she crossed the threshold with Beckett at her shoulder.

The stone walls continued in their arch formation, with a ticket booth set into the right hand side, though a black blind had been pulled down and a ‘closed’ sign was hanging in the window. The entryway led through to the museum’s atrium - a huge sweeping space, largely occupied by the skeletons of a Diplodocus and a pair of pterosaurs. Over the Diplodocus’ back there was a bridge that connected both sides of the upper level, which were filled with displays in glass cases, all exhibiting the time of the dinosaurs. Stone pillars held up the vaulted glass ceiling, providing some quick hiding spots, but also broke up the view of the night guards’ patrol routes.

Evie already picked out two sets of footsteps, even as the sound echoed through the silent hall and bounced off of the stonework. One patrolling the ground floor, and one on the upper level. From the lingering scent of adrenaline in the air, they were on edge. Maybe anticipating trouble?

She crept into the shadow of the nearest pillar and glanced around, while Beckett did the same opposite. He looked over at her expectantly, and it became apparent that he was letting her take the lead.

That was unexpected.

She chewed the inside of her lip as she scanned her surroundings again. The door to the office wasn’t exactly out of plain sight, but it would be easy enough to slip inside once the guard was on the other side of the room. There would have to be a computer with emails or something that could point them in the right direction.

So she pointed to the door, then jabbed a thumb at the guard. Beckett seemed to understand, and so they waited. Once the guard was far enough away, Evie crept over to the door and found that it was unlocked. She cracked it open, and Beckett followed.

They were inside the ticket office, which wasn’t exactly ideal for finding answers, but it was a place to start at least.

“Let’s see if we can find anything,” she said just barely above a whisper.

Beckett just smirked but went along with the plan. Evie sat herself down at the computer and with a little work, convinced it to give up its password. There wasn’t anything particularly useful on it - only that Doctor Anders Johansen was scheduled to be visiting the following day.

“Find anything?”

Evie shook her head.

“Nothing helpful,” she sighed as she rose from the chair. “You?”

He jerked his head for her to follow. A staircase leading to the upper level - likely to a behind the scenes area and the roof if she had to hazard a guess.

“No harm in being thorough,” she remarked, leading the way up. 

She wondered briefly if Beckett was enjoying this, putting the pressure on her to lead the way to the Sarcophagus just to see how she performed. After the warehouse incident, he probably wanted to see how well she coped under pressure. To figure out if it had just been some fluke that she had pulled it off and survived.

Well she was going to prove him wrong if that was the case.

The staircase did in fact lead to a behind the scenes corridor. It was namely home to the entrance hatches to the upper floor displays, but that wasn’t all. Evie made to turn right and nearly jumped a foot in the air.

“Jesus!” she hissed.

Standing a little ways down the corridor was a (presumably) life-size model of a velociraptor that looked like it might have walked straight out of Jurassic Park.

Beckett smirked at her.

“Jumping at plastic now are we, Young One?” he teased.

She flushed red and ignored the jab, instead making a point of hurrying past the display dinosaur, though she wasn’t entirely sure that there would be anything worthwhile to find. As it was, she got lucky.

One of the hatches stood ajar, though it didn’t look out into the hall beyond. It looked more like a storage cupboard, and sitting just inside the door was a key with a tag labelled as ‘ _Office_ ’. Underneath it was a sticky note with a scribbled message.

‘ _Take key back to main office this time_.’

Well someone had failed to remember tonight, which was their loss and her gain. She pocketed the key and returned to Beckett who was watching her with amusement. Back down the stairs they went, and into the main hall. The guards remained none the wiser to the intrusion and continued their patrols.

Evie ducked behind the next pillar, and spotted another red door. The guard was on the far side of the room, but the one on the upper level was peering over the balustrade. He’d spot her for sure if she tried it, so she remained where she was. 

When he resumed his route, she crept up to the door and tried the key. It was a perfect match, and it opened with a click. It didn’t yield much, but there was another door leading through to a series of cubicles, and a door labelled ‘Security Room’.

Evie pressed an ear to the door. She could hear a sigh and a heartbeat on the other side.

“Allow me, Young One.”

Beckett motioned for her to stand back, and she did so, wondering what he planned to do exactly. Lacroix had been clear. A death or two were permissible, but it was preferable to remain unseen.

But whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this.

Beckett seemed to dissolve on the spot, turning grey and losing his outline, then his shape, as he transformed into a rolling bank of mist that slithered into the room through the keyhole. There was a muffled gasp and a _thump_ , then Beckett opened the door.

Behind him, a security guard was on the ground, slumped against the wall, unconscious and none the worse for wear. 

Evie took a look around. The room was mostly occupied by monitors that displayed the ground and upper floors, and she could see the guards patrolling the halls. So far as she could tell, there were no examination rooms to be found, and no sign of the Ankaran Sarcophagus.

However there was a key resting on the console that was labelled as ‘Basement’. If she had to guess, that was were the exhibits were kept when they weren’t on display, and was their best shot at finding the Sarcophagus. She said as much to Beckett, and he agreed with her assessment. Albeit sarcastically.

She just ignored his comment and took a look at the layout map of the building that was pinned to the wall - it was used as a reference point for emergency exits in the event of a fire or earthquake, but it would serve their needs tonight.

As it turned out, the stairs leading into the basement weren’t far - they were to the left of the main office as they came out into the atrium again. So that was where they headed.

[]

“Okay so is that another discipline or what?” Evie hissed as she crept into the security room behind Beckett, who was neatly tucking the now unconscious security guard out of sight in the corner between the windows looking out into the corridors beyond.

“Merely another example of the Protean discipline, Young One,” he replied, smirking. “Well, an example of mastery anyway.”

She rolled her eyes and approached the security console. The guard had helpfully left one of them unlocked when Beckett knocked him out, but the other was beyond her ability to hack. It meant they were dealing with less cameras, but it wouldn’t be a clear run without alarms going off if they got spotted. They’d have to be careful.

“You could obviously do this yourself,” she pointed out as they made to leave the security room. “Turn into mist and float by without anyone seeing you.”

“Oh, obviously,” he agreed, picking at a loose thread on his coat. “I’m just interested to see how the youth would approach this matter.”

 _I’m looking for an opportunity to laugh at you_ , is what she heard, and his damn smug expression only added to it.

“Right. Let’s just go.”

There were two lines painted on the basement floor, and according to signage, the green line was for guided tours and areas where visitors were approved to go. The red line was to indicate places that were off-limits to anyone without authorisation - if Evie had to guess, they’d need to follow the red line.

There was a camera at the far end of the hall, slowly sweeping from left to right. But the hall was long enough that it didn’t linger long enough that Evie was confident that she could get to the blindspot directly beneath it, especially seeing as she had no idea what lay in either direction.

Then an idea formed in her mind.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the silenced pistol that Mercurio had given her. If she shot the camera and broke it, she and Beckett wouldn’t need to worry about getting into the blindspot. The downside was that if a guard saw the damaged camera, they’d be fully aware that someone had broken in and the whole building would be on alert. Not to mention the LAPD would definitely get involved, which would make a divine intervention required for escaping with the Sarcophagus.

She looked over to Beckett questioningly and he shrugged noncommittally. Right. He was just here to study it, not to take it away. And she’d be the perfect distraction to keep the authorities busy.

‘ _Which is what a lot of other Kindred would do_ ,’ she thought. ‘ _But if Beckett’s the Lone Wolf like Rosa said, I can trust him._ ’

For now, she’d take the chance. She peered around the corner and whipped back out of sight when the camera snapped to her. Only when she heard the tell-tale whirring of gears that told her that it had resumed its sweep did she peer out and take aim.

The case cracked audibly and there was a hail of sparks, and the camera fell still and silent, smoking as it released the acrylic stink of melting plastic. It wouldn’t take long for someone to discover it, so moving forward was imperative.

The two Gangrel moved down the hall and checked the corners. The camera on the left was in motion, but the one to the right - where the red line led - was inert.

Evie decided to leave the leftmost camera alone and waited for it to turn away before heading right. There were a couple of offices on either side here, which wasn’t what they were looking for. But then Beckett gave her a small shove towards the door that stood ajar in front of them.

“Guard,” he hissed. 

She heard it too. Boots on tiles, headed in their direction. So they ducked into the office and Beckett closed the door behind them. Her stomach knotted in on itself. If that guard found the camera she’d shot-

The top of a head bobbed into view and she curled up below the window, hoping beyond hope that under no circumstances did he come into the office.

The guard paused, glanced around, then headed back in the direction he had come. Away from the broken camera.

Evie deflated with a sigh. That had been uncomfortably close. All he’d had to do was walk down the hall and he’d have found the evidence of their passing, and the whole museum would have been on alert.

She got to her feet and glanced around. The office was mostly empty, with a sofa on one side and a desk on the other. A clock on the wall told her that it was nearly three in the morning, and she hoped beyond hope that Sam wouldn’t wake up to find her gone… Maybe she should have left a note.

But before she could turn to leave, she did a double take. Someone had left something on the desk. It was a glittering, expensive-looking wristwatch.

She pocketed the watch, feeling only a little guilty as she did so. Her money was running low, and if someone was going to leave expensive possessions lying around, they weren’t going to miss it too badly. But as she made to leave, a screwed up note that had just missed the wastepaper basket caught her eye.

She unfurled it carefully, all too aware of Beckett watching her, and it read:

_We moved the Sarcophagus to Area B2 for Doctor Johansen’s inspection tomorrow. The boss wanted the codes changed for security purposes, so the new one is 2358 - and don’t leave this lying around or management will have both our jobs._

_ps. I think one of the brainiacs took the key card, so do me a favour and check the research lab for me before you go home would you_

To be fair, whoever had received this note hadn’t left it lying around, but it seemed that what the museum had in expensive cameras, it lacked in shredders. 

Still, it was incredibly fortunate to have found this, in fact it might be the luckiest she had been in the last month. She now knew how to get to the Sarcophagus. So she pocketed the note and led the way back into the corridor.

There were more cameras, active and inactive, and the guards seemed to have noticed.

“Stupid thing,” one of them huffed as he peered up at the blind, empty lense. “It’s the laser grid, damn thing just eats all the fucking power.

“You radioed the office?”

“Nah, can’t do shit from there. Probably gonna have to reset the fuses or something.”

“What, like a video game or something? Don’t be dumb. Look, the cameras just let the boys in the office see what we see. Either radio them or do your damn job and leave the cameras to the techies.”

“Fine man, whatever.” The guard reached for his radio. “Hey, we got some cameras down over near Area B2. Can you confirm a problem on your end, over?”

There was only static, and the guards frowned at one another as the two Gangrel exchanged a glance, nodded, and moved into position.

“Repeat, we’ve got some cameras out over near Area B2. Is this a problem in the office or on the grid, over?”

“Shit, is Reynolds sleeping on the fucking job again?”

They didn’t get a chance to find out as they found themselves being punched in the back of the head. They hit the ground with gasps of pain, and Evie kicked her’s in the head while Beckett’s didn’t need the extra knock.

They dragged the sleeping guards back to the office and when Beckett laid his on the sofa, Evie grinned to herself and dumped her’s on top before quickly arranging arms and legs so that the pair looked like they were cuddling.

Beckett raised a brow.

“You’re enjoying this,” he noted flatly.

She shrugged even though she was grinning.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta make your own fun. They’re going to be so confused when they wake up.”

That seemed a satisfactory answer for Beckett, so they moved on without further comment. Another camera took a bullet, and then a third. Then they back-tracked to add to the pile of unconscious guards in the office, and Evie had to wonder how long it would be before someone caught on to the sudden disappearance of personnel. 

There was a small number of research rooms, so Evie and Beckett had split up to cover more ground and search for the missing key card. She slipped inside the one marked with a blue number 2, and took a look around. There were a couple rows of workbenches in the centre of the room and a counter wrapping around the right hand side of the room. 

There was no sign of the key card on any of the work surfaces, but there were some small crates like the one Lacroix had asked her to look out for. She checked them, but while there were various different stamps on them detailing their means of transit, none of them were marked with the name ‘Elizabeth Dane.’

“Where the hell is everyone?!” an angry voice growled. 

Evie dove into cover at the end of a workbench, out of sight from the window looking into the lab and out into the corridor beyond.

“Coats? Fitzroy? Parker? Will someone answer their goddamn radio, we’ve got a situation! Some of the cameras have been damaged, I think we’ve got a break in!” the voice snapped, nearing the door of the lab. “Hello? Fuck’s sake, do I have to do everything around here?!”

The door opened and Evie crawled to the next workbench and ducked around the side as the beam of a torch scanned over the room. It just missed her heel vanishing around the corner.

“Goddamned morons, why tonight of all nights? Just when we think we’re in the clear everyone starts disappearing,” the guard grumbled, stomping further into the room, peering over the first workbench. “We don’t need another damned Dane incident painted all over the news! If I didn’t know better, I’d say that the damned box was cursed!”

She crawled fast along the floor in the opposite direction of the guard, who was clearly having a bad night, then rounded the corner as he peered over the bench.

“If any of you idiots are listening, I’m checking the labs. One and Two seem to be clear, going on to check Three. Maybe I’ll even find that key card the boss was quibbling over before she left. Then I’ll be checking the offices to find out which morons thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity to catch some shut eye, and then I’ll know who needs to be getting a new fucking job!”

He did a last sweep before storming back out of the room, muttering darkly under his breath.

She let out a breath that she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding, though it didn’t quite bring a sense of relief. They were officially on a time-limit now. The cameras had been discovered - though it was amazing that it had taken the guards so long - and it wouldn’t be long before the unconscious bodies were discovered.

With any luck, Beckett had found the key card and they could get moving before the alarm went up for real. She still had no plan for how to get the damned Sarcophagus out anyway.

But it was only as she crept out into the hall did it strike her that Beckett was probably in the third lab by now, searching it for the key card. Unless he’d already found it and had gone on ahead without her, in which case he’d be leaving her holding the bag…

She shook her head. If Beckett was the Lone Wolf, then she could trust him to not do that. And it was probably in their best interests for her to pursue the guard, knock him out, and keep them below the notice of the police a little while longer.

So she followed him.

[]

As it happened, luck was on their side tonight. They were down one suspicious guard and up one key card, as discovered by Beckett in the third lab. And he’d even had the good luck of spotting a locked door with a keypad that likely led to Area B2.

Luck, however, could prove to be a very fickle mistress.

“Attention all security personnel, we have discovered evidence of trespassers on site. I repeat, we have evidence of trespassers on site,” a voice buzzed over the intercom. “Available security in low-priority zones, report to the basement level for an emergency sweep of the area. Personnel have reported assault, and we have evidence of surveillance tampering - the trespassers are considered armed and dangerous. Should the trespassers resist, lethal force is authorised.”

Evie’s stomach dropped and her face went white as panic set in. They knew. They knew and they would kill them both given the opportunity. Goddamn it, why had she listened to Damsel?!

“Evie.”

She jumped and looked up at Beckett who gave her a somewhat serious look for once.

“The worst thing you can do right now is panic,” he explained calmly. “If you panic, you incite the Beast, and risk doing far more harm than good. Focus, and we’ll be just fine.”

She stared up at him, then nodded slowly. Right. Focus. Stay focused and they could still get out of this mess in one piece, sarcophagus or not. Then she drew a deep breath and punched in the door code.

Just inside was the aforementioned laser grid she’d heard so much about. Blue beams lined the corridor, drifting up and down out of time, ready to trigger an alarm should anyone cross their path. On the right wall there was a window of thick security glass that she was willing to bet was the security room for this zone, and likely held the controls for the grid.

At the far end, there was a door leading off to the left and a turn to the right, which likely led to the security room’s door. If one of them crossed it, they could take out the grid and make it safe for the other to cross, though that could still go wrong and would give the guard inside an opportunity to raise the alarm and bring the emergency search crashing down on them. 

Alternatively they could try their luck and both attempt the crossing, which would be time consuming and risk them being spotted, which would lead to the same scenario. 

But, she reminded herself, she didn’t have to think only in terms of mortal limitations. The limitations for Kindred were very different, and she had a self-proclaimed master of Protean on her side.

“Beckett,” she said slowly, “do you think those lasers would pick up on your mist form?”

He raised a brow.

“I imagine not,” he replied, returning to his usual sarcastic tone. “I doubt they’re meant for dealing with anything incorporeal.”

She nodded, the idea taking solid form in her mind.

“Then you could cross unnoticed and take it out,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“That I could, Young One.”

But he waited, giving her that annoying smug expression as though he was waiting for something.

“Would you please cross the grid and take it out?” she sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“Well, you did ask so nicely.”

He looked entirely too smug, even as he greyed and discorporated, rolling across the floor in a bank of mist that passed harmlessly through the lasers silently. No alarms, no footsteps, just the gentle hum of electricity… That was shortly followed by the creak of a hinge and the angry sparking and tearing of abused cords. The lasers fizzled out and the hum of electricity dropped away.

On the other side of the glass, she heard someone cursing, and Beckett appeared from the corner, already pushing the door open as he beckoned for Evie to follow.

She did as she was told and sprinted the length of the hall, passing by the window behind which came a muffled shout, and darting through the door. Beckett slammed it shut behind them and broke the handle off. He shoved a talon into the hole it left behind and there was a ping of a wire severing, effectively locking it behind them. The banging on the surface and jerking on the knob on the other side - which was accompanied by some very colourful curses - stood testament to the effect.

Now they had to hope that it wasn’t the only escape route they had.

The door they had run through led to what appeared to be a storage area. Crates were stacked behind wire-link fences that all required a key they didn’t have - so much for the small box then - and at the far end of the room was a door that required a key card to unlock.

Her heart leapt in relief. They’d finally found it. The Sarcophagus.

Beckett followed her at a more leisurely pace than her eager jog to the door, smiling slightly as she grabbed the door handle and swiped the card.

Then both their grins dropped immediately.

Inside was an examination room, with a large crate standing open on the bench… with no sign of the Sarcophagus in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this was a long one. Still I saw the opportunity for some more Beckett time, and I took it because that's what I do ;)  
> Thank you all for your comments, as always!! They keep me going, and I love to hear from you all :D


	17. Welcome to Hollywood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bungled heist, Evie's off to Hollywood to seek out the elusive Gary Golden.

“No, no, no! You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!”

Evie whirled around to Beckett, gaping at him incredulously.

“How the fuck did someone get here before us?! Who the fuck could have gotten here first?!”

She didn’t realise it, but Beckett wasn’t exactly amused himself, but successfully restrained himself to mild annoyance rather than outright anger. If she hadn’t been present, he might have been inclined to punch a wall, maybe snap one of the crate panels in half. He did hate it when someone else beat him to the punch after all.

“I can’t understand why someone would go through all the trouble of stealing a box with a very ancient corpse. This city’s not that dull,” he remarked dryly.

“This isn’t funny!” Evie snapped harshly. “Lacroix was already pissed at me when I didn’t agree to stealing that stupid box a few nights ago. When he finds out it’s gone-!”

She fisted her hair in her hands, trying very hard _not_ to think about another brush with the Prince’s fury. Goddamn it, she’d gotten away from all of this, why did she listen to Damsel and walk right back into it?! This wouldn’t be happening if she’d just stuck to her no and stayed far away from Lacroix-

“Remember what I told you, Young One. Panic incites the Beast,” he said evenly. “You did as you were instructed, and quite admirably for what was clearly your first museum heist.”

She scowled at him.

“I didn’t _want_ to. And _he_ knew that!”

“Your questions were actually very good ones,” he pressed on, ignoring the comment entirely. “Mortal thieves would be more likely to go for objects that are easily concealed and carried in addition to their financial value. And even a very good thief would have had trouble staying ahead of Kindred competitors against the security systems we’ve encountered.

“And the Kindred community in this city is positively rife with rumours and hearsay. With so many riled up over the Sarcophagus, I did a little research into its potential contents. My guess is that it’s a mummified Mesopotamium King.”

Evie’s scowl softened ever so slightly as her arms flapped at her sides a little uselessly.

“And how does that help us to figure out who took it?”

“Oh it doesn’t.” He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “But it gives us an idea of what might possess someone to steal it.”

It might have given _him_ an idea, but she still felt very much in the dark. The theft was the work of Kindred, that felt obvious, but why its contents mattered was a mystery to her. Hell, why any Kindred would want it was beyond her. Lacroix claimed it needed Camarilla protection, and if its inhabitant was responsible for what happened to the Dane’s crew then sure, she could see why that might concern the Masquerade, but otherwise she was out of her depth.

And Beckett cottoned onto that fact, as he continued, almost casually, “all this speculation about the Sarcophagus containing an Antediluvian and being a portent Gehenna is making me cringe. These are the sorts of ridiculous, superstitious assumptions I came here to debunk.”

Well that cleared things up… a little. Skelter had told her a few bits and pieces about Gehenna and Antediluvians, but he’d almost looked afraid whenever the subject came up. Most of the time he was cryptic, talking about Caine and the chains and Elders controlling their childer. 

What was clear was that he was a believer and preferred not to talk about it at length when he could help it. Beckett, on the other hand, was obviously itching to discuss the subject and impart some knowledge, if only to have someone to complain to.

“Okay so… what _is_ Gehenna exactly?” Evie asked. “I know it’s supposed to be the end of the world or something, but no one’s actually told me what it’s about.”

“Armageddon, Doomsday, the end of all Kindred. It’s a common facet of most mythologies - fear that the world will end. Many believe that Caine and the Antediluvians will return to consume or destroy all Kindred. I wholeheartedly disagree.”

“Why do you disagree? From what I’ve seen lately, anything seems possible. Even the end of the world at the hands of ancient vampires.”

She folded her arms, her earlier frustration and fear slipping away as she focused solely on Beckett, no longer staring at the empty crate behind her. Her curiosity had a way of taking her focus from her problems sometimes.

“As I said, many cultures have the fear of some kind of apocalypse. Kindred believed in these stories when they were human, and naturally carried them over into Kindred myth. But it doesn’t take a supernatural act to cause widespread destruction.

“Humans and Kindred are just as capable of managing their own destruction as a deity. A self-realised Gehenna warrants more vigilance than a God-induced one, don’t you agree? Such is my argument. Which so frequently falls on deaf ears.”

That was… actually a very good point. And yet...

“But why is the Sarcophagus a sign? Are there supposed to be signs?”

Beckett rolled his eyes dismissively.

“What prophecy _doesn’t_ have vague, apocryphal signs?” he said dismissively. “Let’s see, the usual ones are the reports of thinbloods, Caine sightings, doom, gloom, that route.”

“Skel- one of my friends told me that Caine was the first vampire,” she explained. “That everything we are goes back to him.”

“Ah, yes. Caine. The Biblical First Kindred, and founder of the mythological city, Enoch - a place where Kindred and Kine co-existed. I believe that Caine is a figure concocted to personify the transition from nomadic society to agrarian society. That myth, like most, has been twisted by time.”

“So it’s unlikely you’re going to run into him on public transport, got it,” she noted. 

Even as she found herself agreeing, something niggled uncomfortably in the back of her mind. Tiny enough to be ignored, but present nonetheless. Like she was forgetting something important…

She shook her head.

“Those thinbloods from the beach… E said that the Sabbat had been after them at one point. He told me that they’d been called ‘harbingers of the apocalypse.’ And you told me they were more like humans than the rest of us-” it was impossible to not notice that glimmer of pride at the corner of his mouth ticked up “-but why is that a bad thing? Why do Kindred think thinbloods are part of Gehenna?”

“Because many believe that their weak blood heralds the dissipation of every bloodline. Thinbloods tend to lack the powers of their clans, and many can’t Embrace. Some have even been rumoured to reproduce in a more… traditional sense. The thinning of blood is seen as a return to mortality, and thus to death. Rather an ignorant, reactionary response, don’t you think?”

“Anything to blame someone who can’t fight back,” she mused.

Remembering E’s surprise that she hadn’t come by to run him and his friends off, and seeing how Lily had been treated as a blood supply by Vandal for the blood bank, it wasn’t all that much of a shock to learn that Kindred didn’t just bully the thinbloods, but also blamed them for apparently bringing about the end of the world just by existing as a means to justify their treatment.

But there was still one term she didn’t quite understand: Antediluvians. So she asked.

“No one I know has ever met one, but each of the clans and their bloodlines supposedly trace their origins to an original vampire - an Antediluvian. Some swear this grandsires still exist into the present, but then, Kindred and Kine believe a lot of strange things.”

Of that she was less sure. It struck her like Nines’ description of the Camarilla. Someone looking for some power sired some childer to carry out their plans, and then their childer sired their own to further their own goals. And if those childer then became highly specialised in a particular set of skills, would that be so farfetched? 

Maybe Antediluvians existed, maybe they didn’t, but if Kindred all came from the same place while still being so incredibly different… Maybe there was something to that.

But then, she was coming at this from a complete lack of knowledge, whereas Beckett had… well… she didn’t actually know how much experience he had in comparison, but it was surely a lot more than she had.

“How long have you been studying Kindred history like this? What are you trying to figure out?”

“For three hundred years I’ve been trying to determine the function of our existence, the Kindred’s role in the world,” he explained, seemingly pleased that she’d asked. 

In fact he seemed to be enjoying the conversation more than she’d anticipated. Normally most Kindred got annoyed when she took their time to ask questions, but Beckett seemed to be revelling in the chance to indulge her curiosity and impart some of his knowledge on the subject.

“I’m not content to attribute it to some act of Biblical vengeance. We exist for a reason. And if it takes another three hundred years, I’ll figure it out.” He paused, and then asked, “any thoughts?”

She flushed, suddenly embarrassed as she scratched the back of her neck and stared at the floor.

“I… don’t know. I only know what you’ve told me and what bits and pieces I’ve heard,” she pointed out.

“That’s a very poor excuse, Young One,” he countered, raising a brow. “You have a brain, and more information than you did ten minutes ago. I’m sure you’ve formulated some sort of opinion. Some initial thoughts. You’ve heard my take, now I would like to hear _your_ take.”

She hesitated, mulling for a long few moments as her hand fell unconsciously over her braid and began tugging and twisting it.

“Well… Maybe we’re a predatory species,” she said slowly. “We all started out similar, but… evolved? I guess. To get better at hunting, like lions or something. So some Kindred formed the clans, and those clans specialised to be the ones we know today.”

Her face grew warmer with every word, and she was certain that she sounded like a complete idiot. But Beckett scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ve heard that theory before, but there’s little evidence to support it,” he replied thoughtfully. “Still, it’s as good an explanation as any. Certainly better than a divine sentence for manslaughter.”

“I still don’t really know,” she mumbled, twisting her braid around her knuckles. 

Beckett just chuckled.

“My sentiments exactly, but there’s time to rectify that.” Then he nudged her in the shoulder, almost playfully. “And for future reference, try to be more confident in your ideas, Young One. You’ve already given the matter more thought than most Kindred would dream of doing in their unlives.”

She blinked, then opened her mouth to reply when there was a thunderous crash and the sound of splintering wood behind them, and both Kindred’s heads whipped back towards the door.

“Ah, they finally found themselves a battering ram, have they?” Beckett noted dryly. “Time to steal away into the night, I believe.”

“Right…”

There was another door on the far side of the room that was opened with a push bar. They slipped through it and found themselves in a tangle of halls with doors marked as examination rooms. A sign pointed in the direction of a loading bay, however, and that seemed like their best chance of getting out before the guards reached them. With any luck, they hadn’t called the police yet to avoid the incident showing up on the news.

When they reached the doors, however, Evie peered out through the narrow slot of a window and hissed. Some of the guards had the sense to watch the area, with at least three of them patrolling the area while never taking their eyes off of the doors. It was, after all, one of the only escape routes available to the would-be-thieves.

“What do we do?” Evie asked in a hushed whisper, backing away from the window as the light of a torch flashed over it briefly.

Beckett looked thoughtful for a moment, then peered through the slot.

“A straight run for the wall at the back there,” he said, pointing it out. “And if you have any skill in Animalism, now will be the time to use it.”

“Let’s maybe not immediately draw attention to ourselves though,” she interjected. “Less chance of getting shot.”

Beckett hummed, then eased the door open. 

They slipped out of the door, which was annoyingly illuminated, and then dropped down into the shadows of the loading bay. For the moment they were undetected, and Evie picked her target, pursed her lips, and whistled.

In an instant the guard dropped to the ground and stared vacantly into space with glazed over eyes. His fellows were immediately on edge, their weapons suddenly up. Then they seemed to realise that he hadn’t been shot at or caught with a dart.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” one of them demanded, marching over to him and giving his shoulder a hard shake. “Those thieves could be here any moment!”

The other guard was headed for the door, and once he got close enough he’d see them for sure. So they got moving, keeping low against the wall until it ran out, leaving them with only an open stretch of tarmac and freedom.

“Lindon, he’s gone all googly eyed,” snapped the guard, the beam of his torch just narrowly skating past them, missing Beckett’s arm by half an inch.

“Forget him then, we can’t screw up our job just because of… because of…”

Suddenly the third guard - Lindon - was yawning and struggling not to slump up against a wall. Evie glanced at Beckett who had the gall to feign innocence.

“Seriously?! What the hell is wrong with you two- STOP!”

The guard barely caught a glimpse of the two figures - one much taller than the other - shooting out from the dark across the tarmac, making a beeline for the wall at the far end. 

It took all of Evie’s willpower to not look back, or flinch when a spray of bullets chased her heels across the ground. More voices joined the first and more bullets followed, but sure enough, the two Gangrel made it to the wall, clambered over, and disappeared from sight.

The drop on the other side was further than anticipated, and Evie’s knees buckled when she hit the ground below. But it wasn’t time to stop, so she forced herself to straighten up and follow Beckett away through the bushes and trees until the museum had fallen away into the distance and they were wandering along the roadside.

“That was hardly the most exciting chase I’ve ever had,” Beckett mused. “You’d have thought they would have had that area more securely locked down.”

Evie didn’t answer right away. The adrenaline was rushing in her veins and her chest hurt. Encounters with the police weren’t something she went actively looking for. Not if she could help it. They were always quick to point their guns, and happy to spin whatever story they had to tell to justify it. Every brush she had, she worked to keep brief and preferably non-violent.

Tonight had not been ideal for that.

“I suppose you’ll be heading back to the Prince now,” he continued, either not noticing her lack of comment, or just not remarking on it. “You’ll be needing a cab.”

She opened her mouth to respond this time - she was more tempted to just head home and leave Lacroix until tomorrow - except he had already lifted a hand and was waving down an approaching taxi. The cab slowed to a stop beside them, and the Cabbie leaned out of the window.

“Where to?”

“Not for me. This young lady needs to get to the Venture Tower,” he explained briskly. 

The Cabbie asked no further questions, just settled back into his seat and gestured for Evie to climb in. She did so, her mind feeling rather blank as she said her goodbyes to Beckett, who waved before disappearing back into the bushes.

A howl shattered the quiet night air, but the Cabbie said nothing and just drove.

[]

By the time Evie arrived at the Venture Tower, her guts had formed a horribly uncomfortable knot that wasn’t about to come undone any time soon. 

She climbed out of the cab with a mumbled thank you to the Cabbie, before heading inside. She said hello to Chunk, and began the long elevator ride up. Then it was through the already horribly disorienting corridors that only made her stomach knot worse and her temples ache, and up to the office door.

_The Prince expects success from you._

The Sheriff’s message now sat squarely on top of her knotted insides like a heavy ball of lead, adding to her anxiousness and discomfort. This was not the auspicious start that Damsel had envisioned when she had concocted this plan.

The Sheriff answered the door and led her inside, took her weapons as was standard, and then let her through to meet what was certainly her doom.

Lacroix was standing at the window behind his desk, staring down at the city below with his hands folded behind his back. He didn’t turn to face Evie as she approached, but he did lift his gaze. He was watching her in the glass.

“The folly of leadership is knowing that no matter what you do, behind your back there are hundreds certain that their solution is the sounder one, and that your decision was the byproduct of a whimsical dart toss. I declare the blast sentence, and I soak the critical fallout. I make the decisions that no one else will. I wear the albatross and the bull’s eye.”

As if she didn’t have enough to worry about… her heart sank, as she could already picture what this was about. After all, there was only one other major concern of Lacroix’s that she knew about besides the Sarcophagus, and that was-

“The Blood Hunt on Nines Rodriguez for the murder of Alistair Grout will be called,” he said, finishing her thought for her as he finally turned around, cold and stoic. “Rodriguez’s execution is only a matter of time. I have lit the fuse - if a war ignites, it is my head they will sharpen pikes for.

“At least I can rest easy in knowing that you, my most promising attendant, have relieved me of one encumbrance tonight. Do you need assistance in bringing the Sarcophagus up to my office?”

He’d been so busy monologuing and Evie wished she’d taken the time to decide how to light this particular fuse without getting herself blown up. After all, it was her head that was most likely to end up on a pike when she broke the news.

She bit the inside of her lip, and Lacroix’s certainty wavered, his brow creasing with concern.

“About that… Someone else reached the Sarcophagus before I did,” she said haltingly, her poor dead heart twisting and flailing in her chest. “It was… stolen.”

He blinked once. Then a few more times. It was like his mind was buffering as it processed the information and Evie could only brace herself for the blast.

“Stolen?” 

The word only barely made it past his lips in disbelief. Less of an explosion than expected, which was a surprise. She swallowed, moving to elaborate.

“Yes. Beckett and I-”

“STOLEN?!”

There it was. Lacroix’s fist slammed into the window as he spun on the ball of his foot and punched it, and a long fissure cracked deep in the surface. Evie quailed, curling her shoulders inward and taking a step back as Lacroix whirled on her in a flurry of motions and half-formed sentences.

“HOW? WHO WOULD-?” He stopped dead, his pale eyes bulging in their sockets as a revelation hit him. “...Gary. Gary, you treasonous maggot! I should have anticipated your treachery, sewer rat!”

He was trembling with white hot fury, and it almost felt foolish to draw his attention, but Evie’s instincts told her that this Gary was now more likely to be first on the firing line than she was. She might as well try and maintain some echo of worth if it meant keeping her skin.

“Who’s Gary?” she asked tentatively, wincing as Lacroix’s eyes snapped back to her.

“The Nosferatu Primogen,” he snapped heatedly. “The Nosferatu were responsible for finding out where the Sarcophagus was taken after the Dane, and for getting the keys to the museum. They were the only ones who knew! It’s obvious to me now, my mistake.”

She would have asked how he could be so certain that it was Gary who had ratted him out, and that it wasn’t another Nosferatu who’d been in on the job, but Lacroix beat her to the punch.

“I want him found! I want him… found.” The anger in his eyes cooled and he squared his shoulders, giving himself a small shake. “The Sarcophagus could be… exploited. Causing who knows what catastrophe to this city. If it were to fall into the wrong hands…”

Evie swallowed hard, then straightened her back and met his gaze, all while trying her best to call upon the courage she’d found when she first left the tower.

“Where do I find him?”

Lacroix gave her a long, hard look, and for a moment she thought that he might accuse her of failing on purpose, or not trying hard enough to succeed, or something else. But instead he heaved a heavy sigh.

“The Nosferatu lurk in the filth below the streets of Hollywood, but not even I know just where they hide. Hollywood is, unfortunately, lacking in any Camarilla loyalties. The Baron is an Anarch named Isaac. He’s more civil than the Anarchs Downtown, but… nonetheless he wears his mistrust of me on his sleeve. He may know how to contact the Nosferatu.

“Find Gary and get him to talk. That Sarcophagus could be used against us. Do not come back until you have it. Now, I must announce the Blood Hunt - and bear the brunt of all consequences. Escort her out.”

The Sheriff walked her back outside and handed back her weapons before vanishing back inside, leaving her alone. The feeling promptly surged back into her legs and she stumbled, struggling not to fall to the ground.

The worst had passed and she’d brushed with Lacroix’s anger once again. At the very least, she could be relieved that it wasn’t aimed at her this time. Instead she had to find Gary and somehow worm the truth out of him. She ran a hand over her face and rubbed her eyes. 

It was time to head home for the night and figure out her plan for Hollywood. In fact...

As the elevator began its long descent, she pulled out her phone and started texting Damsel.

 _L wants the Ankaran Box_ **_bad_ ** _. Sent me 2 steal it. Already stolen. Wants me to talk to Isaac and find the Nossie Prim. L calling Hunt on 9s._

Just as she reached the ground floor her phone buzzed with a reply.

_Fck L. Nice work Cammy. I’ll tell Isaac to expect u._

Not like she’d had much of a choice, but the recognition did help a little. She just hoped that this Isaac guy would be willing to cooperate.

[]

Sam was home from work by the time Evie rose the next night, having traded her usual crisp suit for comfy sweats and her hair in a bushy ponytail. The look on her face when Evie walked into the living room was enough to make her stomach plummet however. A false smile, eyebrows raised, and eyes slightly too wide.

“Someone broke into the museum last night,” she said in a tone that just screamed that she already knew exactly who was responsible.

Evie hovered on the spot, trying to think of something to say. A defence, a lie, anything to throw Sam off the scent-

“Uh, really? Wild.”

She cringed before the words were even done leaving her mouth. Nice work, idiot.

“It is.” 

Evie remained rooted to the spot, hands fidgeting at her sides as she chewed her lower lip and looked anywhere that wasn’t at Sam. But Sam kept those knowing eyes fixed on her, and that was all it took.

“In my defence, I wasn’t on my own, and I didn’t even steal the stupid sarcophagus,” she blurted out. Then added, “someone else got there first.”

Sam groaned, her head rolling back against the sofa as she pressed her hands over her face.

“Look. I have no issue with you going out on your own at night,” she said, holding her palms up. “I don’t even take too much issue with sneaking into a museum. Going legally is kind of iffy now. But I do take issue with breaking into a museum to _rob it_! What were you thinking?!”

Evie hung her head in shame, staring at her feet as she linked her hands behind her back to try and reduce some of the fidgeting. She just ended up rubbing the tips of her fingers together instead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Seeing her looking so pathetic must have twigged something in Sam, as she sighed and softened.

“Why did you do it? Did one of those Anarchs tell you to?”

Evie hesitated, trying to think of a more pleasant explanation than ‘one of my friends made me go back to the guy who treated me like shit so I could spy on him and help to bring him down’ but Sam was in on the ride now. She ought to know what was going on. Just in case trouble followed her home one night.

So Evie sat down on the sofa and explained. She omitted the fact she really hadn’t _wanted_ to go back to Lacroix, and reasoned that the Anarchs weren’t the only ones with concerns about him either. Sam still didn’t look overly impressed.

“They have you spying on Lacroix now? What happens if he finds out? Evie this is too dangerous-”

“I’ve been in danger ever since I was murdered behind that club, Sam,” she interrupted, a little more harshly than she’d meant to. So she eased up a little. “I want to help, and now I can. I can’t just look at what Lacroix does and ignore it, you know I can’t. Especially not with what he’s doing to Nines.”

Sam frowned softly.

“He’s the one who saved you in the trial, right? Did something happen to him?”

Evie nodded somberly.

“Lacroix told me that he’s calling for a Blood Hunt on him, meaning all kinds of Kindred will be hunting him down and trying to kill him, but… I know it wasn’t him!” Her hands flopped hopelessly in her lap. “Nines went into hiding a few nights ago, but I’m worried someone might find him…”

Sam sighed in resignation and shook her head.

“Evie, we went over this: you’re not responsible for every terrible thing that happens in the world,” she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You did what you could. And you warned him ahead of time. Now it’s up to him to stay hidden. And if anything _does_ happen to him, it’s not your fault.”

It was obvious to them both that Evie didn’t quite believe that, but there was no point in arguing. Sam was right after all. Evie couldn’t take responsibility for what happened to Nines from here on out - she had warned him about Lacroix, and had told Strauss what she had seen. Strauss might not have made much of a difference in the end, but Nines had gotten a head start over Lacroix. It was up to him now to ride it out… if that was an option.

“So, you’re headed out to Hollywood tonight?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. “I won’t be able to come with you tonight with work and all. Are you gonna be okay on your own?”

Evie looked around at her with a weak smile.

“It’s just Hollywood, Sam. How bad could it be?”

[]

The Cabbie dropped Evie off outside the Red Spot, a local convenience store just down the street from the Asp Hole. She climbed out onto the pavement and glanced around. Lacroix hadn’t told her where she might find Isaac, and she had no idea where she ought to start looking. 

Fortunately she didn’t have to start looking at all. She’d barely made it two steps before a large burly man in a neat pressed suit and shades stopped dead in front of her.

“I heard we were expecting you. Best you head over to see Isaac sooner rather than later, Miss Byrne.”

She blinked, then nodded stiffly.

“Uh. Right. That was the plan, but where do I find him.”

“The jewelry store at the end of the street, head in the side door,” he said, pointing in the direction she needed to head. “Consider yourself invited.”

She followed his advice and made a beeline for the street, scanning the buildings on both sides for any signs of a jewelry store. It came into view after a couple of minutes - the exterior was made from yellow sandstone with dark red woodwork for the door and window frames.

As instructed, she headed down the alley and found herself at the side door. It was dark red with a stained glass window obscuring the room inside. Evie nodded tentatively.

“Come in!”

She did as she was told and stepped inside.

The office was luxuriously decorated - Isaac seemed to enjoy dark red wood, as it panelled his walls with decorative florals carved into the surface and lined with slender pillars that were more decoration than structural. A wide screen tv was set into the left wall with a VHS machine affixed into an alcove beneath it. The floor was covered in a plush rug, and a broad desk took up a good chunk of floor space.

Standing behind it was a man with chiselled features, a black suit and a blue shirt he wore unbuttoned at the collar, and greying hair that he wore slicked back. At a glance he looked perfectly human, lacking the typical paleness that usually served as the most prominent sign of a Kindred, but there was a shrewdness in his eyes as he looked her over.

“Good evening, Fledgling. Isaac Abrams. I’ve been expecting you.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket and eyed her carefully. “Seems the wooden soldiers of the Camarilla shuffle in a little too often these nights. That baby-faced, two-bit Prince Lacroix got something to say to me?”

Evie frowned at him.

“Damsel told you to keep up appearances when she called you?” she asked flatly, sarcasm biting at the fringe of her tone. “Besides, I heard I’d been invited.”

Something in his expression shifted microscopically that took away some of the cold disdain in his features, rendering him more neutral than he had been just a moment ago.

“That you were. Very courteous of you to stop be. All Kindred that enter my domain are expected to introduce themselves,” he explained briskly. “It may be an outdated formality, but it serves its purpose. It gives me the opportunity to personally welcome visitors to my domain. It also helps to establish an understanding in advance, so that there are no unfortunate accidents while they are in town.

“Call me old-fashioned, but this is my barony, and as is tradition, a token of respect must be paid.”

Evie frowned slightly. Guess being an Anarch spy wasn’t going to buy her much goodwill with Isaac. That or he was keeping up the act out of principle. It was hard to get a read on him.

“What kind of token is it that you want from me?”

“A simple exchange. Last week I paid for a certain item - a movie - and this evening I got an email saying that the seller is ready to deliver it. Unfortunately, he’s become a bit paranoid all of a sudden.” 

He waved a hand irritably as he began to pace.

“Won’t meet me in person, won’t drop it off, won’t even answer his phone. Says he’ll send the location of the pickup to a computer in the nearby internet cafe tonight. See where I’m going with this?”

Evie folded her arms over her chest.

“You want me to go and make the pick up.”

Isaac nodded.

“Go to the Ground Zero Internet Cafe and look for a directory named ‘Josephk.’ The password is ‘kafka.’ There’ll be an email in there that will specify a nearby location. Meet the contact, pick up the item, come back. Not too painful, right?”

“Honestly? It’s probably the least painful favour anyone’s asked for yet,” she confessed, dropping her arms. “I won’t be too long.”

“Excellent.” He finally offered her a smile of sorts. More formal than warm or welcoming, but a smile nonetheless. “In the meantime, consider yourself a welcome guest in my barony. Welcome to Hollywood.”

Evie left the store unsure of what to make of Isaac. Everything about him was calculated, polished, even rehearsed… Yet none of it felt wooden or acted upon. It came to him as naturally as breathing. He didn’t give away anything he didn’t want to. The minute shifts in expression, the smile, the welcome… All intentional. He wasn’t an enemy… but he didn’t quite feel like an ally yet either.

Still it was time to get her feet wet, so she headed down the street. The internet cafe was just across from the Red Spot - she had been in once and never again. It very much possessed a ‘guys only’ kind of energy that had made her feel very unwelcome the last time she’d visited. She doubted that that had changed since then.

Ground Zero had never been the nicest place, and it hadn’t improved much. The lighting was dank at best, and the patrons had left junk at the desks and on the floor again. Crappy posters were plastered over the bare concrete walls, and someone had taken the time to carve ‘AWP Whore’ over one of the computers.

Still, it was mostly empty this time of night with only one or two other patrons taking the time of night to do… whatever they were up to. She didn’t particularly want to know. Luckily they were absorbed enough to not pay her any attention as she walked around checking the computers for Josephk.

She found him eventually in the far corner and punched in the password. The account opened and she found the email she needed.

_Meet me in the alley behind the Fast Buck._

Well that was to the point, and thankfully nearby. She was more than happy to get moving and leave Ground Zero and its filth behind. Even a dark, foreboding alley was a vast improvement.

Lurking in the shadows was a pale man in a hoodie who was hunched over, his eyes darting to every corner and shadow. He flinched as Evie approached and watched her nervously, doing his best to suppress his trembling.

“Y-yeah? What do you want, kid?”

“Isaac sent me. You have the tape?”

He tensed.

“Ye-yeah. I mean, what?! I don’t know any Isaac! Get lost, kid!”

She held up her hands peacefully, while also blocking his chance to slither out of his corner and make a run for it, effectively fencing him in.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just here for the tape. What’s got you so scared?”

She exerted her blood a little, reaching out to his Beast. Its already raised hackles bristled and then relaxed, slumping down passively before her. And in turn, its owner relaxed slightly too.

“Alright. S-sorry. It’s just that… I mean, something is- I just want out of this whole damn thing! I don’t want anything to do with that damn tape!”

She reached out to his Beast again, keeping it as relaxed as she could, though it proved easier said than done. Its moment of passiveness was proving fleeting. Something scared him enough that the Beast was too easy to agitate.

“What’s going on? I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” she pressed.

He hesitated, and then the Beast’s hackles dropped again.

“I - I don’t know. I mean, when it comes to video, I’ve seen everything - and I do mean _everything_ \- but this thing, it’s sick. It can’t be real, but… it is! It’s real and it scares the hell out of me!”

“It’s that bad?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, you have no idea. It’s disgusting… that girl… the things that are happening to her. It just ain’t right, man!” The Beast raised its head, its ears flattening back, and his voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “And now… something’s wrong… Something’s after me. I swear to God, something’s after me!

“Every place I go… every place I look, I see things. In the shadows. My phone rings, and I hear breathing on the other end and… shit! I’m out man! I’m out of this whole thing!”

He was ready to bolt. The Beast was growling, ready to lunge if pushed hard enough.

“You’ll be out of this once you give me the tape,” she pressed. “Give it to me, and it won’t be your problem anymore.”

He shook his head, eyes flickering over the shadows.

“I don’t have it! I stashed it someplace. Look, you need to find Ginger Swan’s-” 

He froze, staring down the alley behind him.

“Shit! Did you see that?! What the hell was that?!”

Evie followed his sight but saw nothing in the shadows. No shapes, no sliver of movement… Nothing. She turned back to the contact and opened her mouth, but her fragile hold on his Beast snapped and he abruptly shoved past her.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here!”

He sprinted off around the corner and disappeared… And then-

“Oh God!”

There was the blood curdling scream and the sudden aroma of fresh blood erupting into the air. Evie leapt out of her skin and sprinted for the corner. But by the time she arrived, he was gone, and the only evidence that he’d ever been there was the smear of blood leading down into the manhole.


	18. The Graveyard Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After arriving in Hollywood, Evie is assigned to retrieve a tribute for Baron Isaac Abrams. It turns out there's more to the task than meets the eye.

She wished she hadn’t looked.

The manhole cover clattered back into place with a loud metallic ringing as Evie staggered backwards and fell to the ground. She clapped a hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved and she scooted across the concrete away from the manhole, fumbling for her knife. Her blood concentrated itself into her muscles, readying her for battle if need be.

But no terrifying creature rose from the manhole. No eyes stared back at her from the alley. The shadows didn’t shift and change out of the corners of her eyes. The night was still and quiet, and she was very much alone. 

But that didn’t change what she had seen at the bottom of the ladder that led into the tunnels. Clinging to the bottom rung of the ladder, limp and lifeless with stark white knuckles and severed at the elbow was the Courier’s arm. Whoever - or whatever - had attacked him had been strong enough to rip him free of it and drag him screaming into the dark.

Her stomach lurched again just thinking about it and she stifled the urge to vomit. She had to go. Back to Isaac. Tell him what had happened. Maybe he’d have some idea about whatever that thing was.

She scrambled to her feet and staggered back onto the well lit street, out of the blood stained alley and still shaking from head to toe, tucking her knife back into her pocket but keeping her hand wrapped tightly around the hilt. A deep breath helped to steady her balance, and she took off at a sprint down the street, beelining straight for the jewelry store.

Isaac looked up as she came barrelling through the door and cocked a brow.

“That was fast,” he remarked, glancing her over. “You have the tape?”

She shook her head, still shaking all over and struggling to keep the contents of her stomach down. Isaac frowned but gestured to a couch in the corner for her to sit. She all but tumbled into it, breathing hard, her innards still debating whether or not to make an appearance.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he commented.

A ghost. That was funny. Somehow the Ocean House Ghost paled in comparison to whatever had happened just now. At least she knew what she’d been up against.

“Courier’s dead,” she panted thickly through a mouthful of blood. “Something- Something killed him.”

That, at least, seemed to surprise Isaac. He blinked in shock and then frowned.

“What the hell happened?”

She gave him a recount of the conversation: the Courier’s paranoia, his fear of the tape, how he’d sworn that something had been stalking him since he’d watched it, and how he’d seen something and fled, only to be dragged into the sewers and killed.

Surprise turned to serious concern as Isaac scratched his chin.

“Well one thing’s clear: we need to see what’s on that tape, now more than ever. Did he tell you where he hid it?”

Again Evie shook her head.

“He only said ‘you need to find ginger swans’,” she said dryly. “Any ideas what that means?”

“Ginger Swan,” he murmured, nostalgia crossing his face and filling his eyes with a certain longing. “Not an animal, a name. Brings back a lot of memories. Seventy years ago, wasn’t a man in this city that wouldn’t have given up his family, his career, or anything else for one night with her. But Ginger Swan’s been dead since the Fifties. Twenty years later there were still grown men weeping at her grave.”

Evie gave him a rather blunt look.

“Were they mourning her or her tits?”

Isaac didn’t laugh or smile, but gave her a rather knowing look that betrayed some hint of disdain. Not aimed at her, but rather in acknowledgement. As if he knew what was the priority of those mourners, and he took the offence personally on Ginger’s behalf.

“That’s between Ginger and her mourners,” was all he said though. “What I don’t understand is how she’s relevant to this tape. Still, I have faith that you’ll figure it out.”

And without another word, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, shooed her out of his office and back into the alley.

Her stomach had only barely settled, and yet being back out in the cold night air made it lurch again. She pressed down the sensation as best she could and gave herself a shake.

The courier said he’d stashed the tape, and that she’d need to find Ginger Swan’s… well, if she had to make a guess, it’d be her grave. Maybe the Courier knew the place had some significance to Isaac personally. Or maybe her grave was prominent enough that it would be easy enough to find the tape if one knew where to look. 

Personally, Evie had never even heard of the woman before tonight, so it looked like she’d be trawling the graveyard… and digging up a dead woman. Disgust congealed in her stomach at the thought. Bad enough it had happened once already, but a second time added a whole new level of disrespect to the dead. But what choice did she have? Isaac wanted the tape, and she needed him if she was going to find the Nosferatu.

She found the nearest bus stop and checked its map for any sign of a local graveyard. There was one, and it was within walking distance, maybe half an hour up the road or so. It would be hard to miss. 

To be so close to Hollywood’s heart, it was probably meant for beloved talent and superstars as opposed to just anyone living here, but who knows. Maybe some unfortunate Target employee had been fortunate enough to end up rubbing bony elbows with the likes of Ginger Swan and… some other dead star from the fifties.

Was it worth mentioning that movies had never really been her thing?

With a heavy sigh, she shoved her hands into her pockets and set off, hoping that she wasn’t about to find herself up against another dead end.

[]

_ CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE _

_ Due to repeated acts of vandalism, the Hollywood Cemetery is closed to the public. Unauthorised trespassing will result in criminal charges. _

The sign was stapled to the wooden boards that barred the gate and blocked any view of the graveyard beyond. And no doubt the gate behind it was locked and chained tight to keep anyone from getting in. The tops of the stately walls surrounding the grounds were lined with barbed wire, and a floodlight only barely disguised the security camera that watched over the entrance.

Evie did her best to look nonchalant in its gaze and walked away before doubling back around through a back alley until she was back at the graveyard wall where she was able to stand in the camera’s blindspot. 

She kept to the corner, checking both directions. Then did a double take. 

To her right there was a heavy wooden palette propped up against the wall, and junk piled under it. All stuffed in a gap at the bottom of the wall that looked large enough to crawl through.

Double-checking for any additional security or for any other lurkers nearby - there weren’t any - Evie crept over to the hole in the wall. There were muddy boot prints leading away from it, and the trash and debris looked as though it had been crammed back into place in a hurry.

She performed another quick sweep of the area, but seeing no one, she pushed back the palette, cleared the hole, and crawled through to the other side, pausing only to tug the palette back into place behind her.

The sprawling graveyard was every bit as gloomy as expected. A thin mist hung in the air, illuminated sparsely by orange sodium lights that cast an eerie glow over the scant patches of ground they reached, and formed a trail of glowing lights among the tombstones and mausoleums. The silence hung thick in the air, and only the squelch of mud under her boots dispelled it… 

In fact she became distinctly aware that she couldn’t hear anything from over the wall. The street had been empty, but she had still heard the distant thrumming of engines a few streets over and the occasional hoot of an owl that hunted for rodents. But behind the wall there was nothing. And the glow from the floodlight above the gate wasn’t visible either.

The graveyard felt like an isolated world all of its own. A pocket occupying the space behind the walls, and she got the feeling there was a less than natural reason for that.

Her nerves rattled anxiously, compelling her to go back to the safety of the street, but she steeled herself and focused her blood behind her eyes. The darkness peeled back and the mist thinned, but only a little and not nearly to the extent it should have. Something was at work here.

“This better not be some horror movie crap,” she mumbled to herself as she walked out from between the mausoleums and onto the gravel path.

Her breath misted in front of her as she walked down the slope, her eyes peeled for any mention of Ginger Swan on the headstones. And it was when she reached the foot of the slope that something stirred.

She smelled it first. That distinct aroma of freshly churned dirt, followed by the rot of flesh that made her gag on instinct, the stench settling on her tongue with a taste akin to rotting pork. She staggered for a moment, then stopped and scanned her surroundings.

Then she heard it. The scraping of fingernails against dirt, and though it was muffled from depth, it was drawing ever closer to the surface. 

Grabbing her phone, she turned on the torch and the narrow beam pierced the darkness, settling on the mounding earth that a mortal might have mistaken for a fresh mole hill. Except it grew in proportion that was more on par with a man than a mole, and she could only stare, transfixed with horror as a decaying hand clawed its way out.

The graveyard came to life as one by one, the walking dead crawled out of their graves with deep guttural moans. Some were fresh enough that they could pass for human, save for their glassy eyed stares and their taut, drained flesh. Others were so old that their flesh had mostly sloughed free of their bones, bundles of muscle, tendons, and ligaments still strung over them. Some were missing teeth, others a limb or more, and they were converging on Evie.

The feeling flooded back into her legs and she staggered backwards. Keeping her balance, she took off at a sprint down the path into the graveyard as the earth continued to open around her, bringing a fresh new wave of undead into the world.

She had no idea what her plan was exactly. Her way out was behind her now, drawing ever further out of reach behind a wall of walking corpses, but something told her to keep running. So she did.

Until a cold, clammy hand patched with rot and decay seized her ankle as she passed. Her momentum carried her forward and down, and she hit the gravel hard.

The corpse was half out of its grave, its head and shoulders above the earth. It shrieked at her and pulled, dragging her backwards across the gravel. She reached for her belt, pulled out her revolver and-!

_ CRACK! _

A blast of garlic filled her nostrils, overwhelming the stink of scorched flesh as the corpse’s head exploded. Its grip on her ankle slackened, and she wrenched herself free, scrambling away from it.

“Get back where you belong!” her rescuer barked.

He stomped the corpse back down into the earth with a heavy, military-standard boot. It groaned and he angled his shotgun down, firing again. It was the burst of white powder and smell of garlic that tipped her.

Phosphorus.

He raised his shotgun and fired again.

“Get to the house down there,” he ordered, jerking his head over his shoulder. “Stay there til I’ve cleared them out.”

Evie didn’t need to be told twice. She just got to her feet and ran as her rescuer pursued the walking dead. And this time she kept her revolver at the ready, just in case.

The house was more of a shack than anything, but the doors were heavy, the walls were thick, and the windows were shuttered, which made it perfect for keeping the mindless undead out. Evie ducked inside and dropped onto the low, creaking couch, where she took a moment to catch her breath. Then she realised that she had dropped her phone. Must have happened when the corpse grabbed her.

She let out a low, shuddering breath.

“Vandalism, huh?”

She shook her head. The supernatural silence and darkness suddenly made sense. Protections to keep the Kine unaware of the walking dead, and the guy shooting at them. How the Courier had managed to get in and out without discovering the undead or being grabbed by them, she would never know.

It was nearly half an hour before the man with the shotgun arrived, and it was her first proper look at him.

He had the look of a middle-aged veteran with a crop of dark hair that he wore in an undercut and a deeply lined face. He wore dark fatigues complete with gloves, those heavy military boots, and slung over his shoulder was the shotgun and a rifle. Tucked into holsters at his sides were a pair of pistols, and at his hip was a serrated knife that had clearly seen some use.

“Gotta be more careful out there, sweetie,” he sighed as he shut the door behind him and moved into the room. “Zombies’ll still mess up one of your kind given the chance.”

Sweetie? She frowned at the nickname, but decided against commenting. He clearly knew what she was and about what was going on… She was guessing here, but it seemed reasonable to assume that he was a ghoul.

“Name’s Romero. I’m the caretaker here,” he went on, as he laid the rifle and shotgun on the table and took his pistols out of their holsters. “I don’t exactly keep people from getting in, though that is part of my job. I’m here to make sure nothing gets out.”

“That’s been a problem, I take it?” Evie scoffed, jabbing her thumb at the door.

The pistols were set on the table too, and Romero ran a hand through his hair, then leant up against the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Every night, ‘round this time for the past… oh, several months now, the dead’ve been getting an itch to stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. Nobody knows why, but they’re working on it. Til they figure it out, they needed a volunteer to patch the problem and I stepped forward. Problem temporarily solved, the Baron’s happy, I get to shoot zombies, and I get my blood for the month. I’ve carved out a nice niche here.”

Evie frowned.

“No one knows what’s causing it? No one at all?”

Romero shook his head.

“Nope. Baron’s got that Tremere on it - pale girl, Eva I think she’s called. Could be some vampire necro-hoodoo, toxic waste, solar radiation, not important. Until then, what’s important is that they continue to rise up, and I continue to put ‘em down. Everybody’s happy.”

She shrugged. Couldn’t argue with that. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place.

“I got a job from Isaac. I’m supposed to find an item he wants, and the Courier who was supposed to deliver it said he stashed it in Ginger Swan’s grave. Any idea where I’d find it?”

He paused a moment, then heaved a sigh. He turned and picked up his weapons, shouldering the shotgun and holstering the pistols.

“Follow me.”

He led Evie back out of the shack into the silent night air. The reek of decay and burned flesh lingered heavy in the air, mingling with the aroma of garlic and cool night air. 

“Gonna have to get ‘em back in their graves before daybreak,” Romero grumbled as he led the way down the path, further still into the graveyard. “Always a messy business, scooping ‘em up and dumping ‘em back in the ground. And then you have to make it look like they never clambered out in the first place.”

Evie made no comment. She was barely listening, being too preoccupied with scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. There was none, but she couldn’t bring herself to let her guard down. She had enough problems without being eaten by a horde of the walking dead.

After a long few minutes of silence, save for the crunching of gravel, they arrived at the steps of a stately-looking mausoleum. Romeo shouldered his shotgun and took a ring of keys from his belt. He murmured vaguely under his breath as he rattled through the keys one at a time until he found the one he was looking for. 

The heavy oak doors opened with a loud, droning moan, and Evie almost expected another undead corpse to lurch out at them. But the doorway was empty and the night air became still and silent once more. 

"Alright, Swan's niche is somewhere on the left side. For some reason this lot don’t ever seem to rise, so don't worry about the residents waking up to greet ya," he explained, taking the key off of the ring and holding it out to Evie. "I need to get back to watching the gates, so make sure you lock up when you're done, and drop this off at my place before you leave." 

Evie nodded and pocketed the key. Romeo said nothing, just turned and left, shotgun in hand, and left her to explore alone.

Perhaps the mausoleum looked less creepy in the day time when sunlight streamed through the tall, arched mirrors, illuminating the cold grey stone with warm golden light. At night it was all long shadows and the constant feeling that the darkened corners had eyes that watched with a piercing intensity. The fact that her footsteps echoed loudly didn’t help to ease the suspense either. If anything, it heightened the feeling that she ought not to be there in the first place.

Swallowing hard, she continued her way inside.

The mausoleum was divided into cloistered rooms, filled with niches that lined the walls. Each niche had its own plaque with a name, a pair of dates, and an epitaph engraved into them. It didn’t take too long to find Ginger Swan’s, as someone had left an elaborately carved wooden swan on the window sill closest to her niche.

_ Ginger Swan _

_ May 13th 1910 - August 13th 1954 _

_ Beauty and Elegance Unrivalled _

Fifty years on, and people still left gifts for the woman. Mortal but eternal. Dead yet ever-lasting. Most Kindred couldn’t say the same, she thought to herself as she reluctantly tugged the drawer of the niche open. She didn’t enjoy the idea of disturbing Ginger’s rest, but she needed that tape.

And there it was, nestled in the red velvet that concealed the contents of the niche from prying eyes. An old VHS tape with battered casing and a skull printed on the faded label. And written on the side was the name:  _ Devilspawn Flesh Feast. _

“Sounds delightful,” Evie grumbled flatly as she stowed the tape away in her bag.

Still, she had what she was looking for, even if it had been a bit of a roundabout pickup. She slid the niche shut and crept out of the mausoleum, away from the long shadows and watching walls.

The crisp night air was still and silent, save for the heavy clunk of the lock turning shut once more. No groaning of undead and no cracking gunshots, though the aroma of garlic lingered. There was no breeze to disperse it, and it was enough to stir an old human hunger in her. Since her Embrace, human food hadn’t been on the menu, and it was something she found herself missing every now and then if she dwelled on it for too long.

So she pushed it from her mind and took to a swift jog back up the path, pausing only to drop Romero’s key off at his shack before reaching the graveyard wall. Relief soaked through her chest as she crawled back through the hole and out into the alley, and she was all too pleased to be leaving.

[]

Isaac was still on the phone when she got back, though he didn’t waste any time ending the conversation.

“That’s all I have to say on the matter. Now I have business to attend to. Good night,” he said coolly before pocketing the phone and turning back to Evie. “You have it?”

Evie wordlessly pulled the tape out of her bag and held it out to Isaac. He smiled loosely and took it, looking it over.

“I didn’t doubt you’d find this,” he said, waggling the tape as he stepped out from behind his desk, “and I apologise if I was overly imperious before - a reflex action - I get a lot of young blood forgetting their place. I’ll assist you as reasonably as I can with your task, but first…”

He strolled over to where the TV had been set into the wall and tugged open the panel beneath it, revealing a series of VCRs, VHS and DVD players, and other similar systems. He slotted the tape in and turned on the TV.

“This tape,” he murmured, stepping back as the screen flickered to life. “I’m in a hurry to find out what’s behind all the hype, so. Get comfortable. I do have the feeling that whatever’s here may be of use to both of us, however.”

For the first few minutes there was only static and garbled snatches of noise that were too vague to decipher. When the tape finally smoothed out, it was mid-action.

A girl came flying around the corner of some stairs, her face stricken with fear, and she whimpered with fear as she scrambled up the steps. Following her from below was a series of grunts, shrieks, and thumping footsteps that heralded her pursuers.

Evie’s stomach lurched as they appeared. Twisted grotesque creatures with vaguely human faces and legs sprouting out from either side. Their limbs ended in long, clawed fingers, and their circular mouths were filled with rows upon rows of teeth. They were wrapped in greyish skin that was covered in sores and ridges that had a strangely  _ artistic _ quality to them. Not that they were pretty, but more that they looked deliberately crafted. Designed as opposed to random.

The creatures looked like they ought to have moved awkwardly. Instead they were not only fast, but surprisingly nimble. One of the three leapt up at the discoloured wall, pushed off of it, and flipped over its companions as they pursued the girl across the landing.

She didn’t pause to check her surroundings, just sprinted for the first open door she spotted.

The camera angle abruptly changed to inside the room as she ran through the door and slammed it shut behind her. She sunk against the door, torn between panting and sobbing, and the brief respite was pause enough for Evie to take notice of the blood leaking from the walls.

But she had no time to process it as the camera panned over to the hideous bed and the creatures perched on the frame.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the girl sobbed, crawling across the floor as she scanned for any other way out. 

But if there had been one, she never made it.

Evie clapped her hands over her face as the creatures lunged on the cowering girl, but the agonised screaming, tearing of flesh, and crunching of bones painted a very vivid image in her mind’s eye. Only when the twisted noise of the girl’s gruesome death faded away into heavy breathing did she peek back at the screen between her fingers.

A skull occupied the screen, with a sideways eye in the centre of the forehead and a mane of tendrils surrounding it, and the name  _ Death Mask Productions _ was printed beneath it.

“It was more disturbing than I was led to believe,” Isaac mused as he rested his chin against his fist. He glanced down at Evie. “You can understand my concern now, can you?”

“That was sick,” she muttered, her stomach still churning. “Why the hell did I need to see that?”

“Because it just so happens that about the time this tape started circulating, the Nosferatu disappeared. I tried to elicit their help in tracking down their source, and for the first time in all these years, I was dismayed by their absence.”

Of course. Nothing was ever simple after all.

“You think they’re connected.”

“I assume so; it’s awful coincidental otherwise. And those creatures… I don’t know many professional FX houses could pull those off,” he admitted. “There’s a problem though in that the film’s incomplete. The first half is damaged. We need a complete copy.”

Her heart sank horribly.

“Where would we find one?” she asked weakly, not caring how Isaac perceived it. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of seeing that girl’s final moments again.

“Behind the spit-shine gloss of the Hollywood dream factory, there’s another city churning out a vile by-product for the furtive consumption of a debauched audience,” he explained begrudgingly, his fist dropping from his chin so that he held his arms crossed in front of him. “I have no doubt that the film’s found its way to another smut peddler. I’d ask around.”

Evie gave Isaac a deadpan stare.

“You realise that no smut peddler in their right mind will sell to me, right?”

“Ah. Right.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I have two childer here in Hollywood. Ash Rivers and Velvet Velour. One of them should be able to help you.”

Evie blinked.

“Ash Rivers? As in  _ the _ Ash Rivers?” 

It was impossible to not know the name Ash Rivers these days, ever since Negative Zero had premiered he’d skyrocketed to fame. And though his sudden retirement had been a surprise, he still made headlines on a regular basis, like those vehicular accidents he’d miraculously survived-

Ah. Now it made sense.

Isaac nodded and a look of far-off nostalgia filled his eyes.

“Seven years ago, I saw a casting session for what would become Negative Zero. The moment I set eyes on him, the passion of his performance, I knew he had it. I hadn’t seen anything like him since Clift or Dean. He had the looks, the charisma, the allure… That undefinable quality that makes a film legend. My first movie with him made him a sensation… and it also changed him.”

“Changed him? How?”

“Once everyone knew who he was, I no longer did.” Isaac’s mouth twisted downwards, and the regret on his face was plain as day. “The parties, the drinking, the sports cars, the women… One night when I came to discuss his next role, I found him, nearly dead of an overdose. And I couldn’t- I couldn’t let him go.”

Evie’s insides went cold. He didn’t need to say out loud what he had done. It was plain on his face.

“You Embraced him.”

“I acted on impulse,” he confessed. “I had seen so many others die before their time, but with Ash I had a chance to prevent that fate.”

“And how does he feel about all of this?” she asked pointedly as a cool slither of anger lodged itself deep in her chest.

Isaac heaved a sigh and deposited himself into his chair, folding one leg over the other.

“He was devastated. He still wanted to act, but I had to deny him his place in the limelight. He had to lie to his friends about his new lifestyle. He had to feed. I gave him a club, a scrap of his former glory. I did everything I could to facilitate the change.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he hates you,” she said coldly, her fingers curling at her sides. “You could have called an ambulance, and instead you took his life away from him.”

“He doesn’t hate me,” Isaac replied coolly. “Resents me, maybe. But I am his sire and he is my childe. And there is a responsibility and respect inherent in that bond, even if we are no longer friends as we once were. And given the opportunity, I would do it again.”

She wanted to argue, point out how incredibly selfish his choice had been when there had been other options that didn’t involve stripping Ash of his life, even if they weren’t guaranteed to save his life. It bothered her so much that it didn’t even cross her mind that neither Isaac nor Ash had been executed for an illegal Embrace the way her sire had been.

But she let it go. It’s not like Isaac could very well take the Embrace back anyway, even if she did argue with him over the morality of his actions.

“Where do I find Ash?”

“He spends nearly all of his nights in his club, the Asp Hole. I am, I admit, too old-fashioned to appreciate it. To me, it’s the compressed essence of everything that’s wrong with the film industry today.”

Her stomach twisted horribly. Of course. Of course it had to be the Asp Hole, why wouldn’t it be? Phantom claws raked over her skin and phantom fangs sunk into her neck as flashes of that night assaulted her senses. Blood, cold pavement, cracking bones, rending flesh. 

She shivered and pressed it from her mind. If Isaac noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“And Velvet? What’s she like?”

“VV is the proprietor of Vesuvius, a strip club-” His nose wrinkled slightly at that, but then as he continued, fondness crept into his voice. “-and I have never met a Kindred as alive as her. I did not Embrace her, but she is like a daughter to me. She's still young, but nonetheless adept. I have no doubt that she’ll be open to helping you with procuring the tape. Much more amenable than Ash would be, at any rate.”

That might be true, but at the same time a strip club was perhaps the last place Evie wanted to go. Just imagining it made her skin crawl with discomfort. But the Asp Hole…

‘I’m too ace for this shit,’ she thought to herself as she shuffled out into the alley outside. 

Immense discomfort or revisiting the scene of her death. Neither was appealing. 

And she didn’t have time to wait for Sam to be available to help her. Every night that went by was another person who could walk into that death trap of a house or be predated on by those bizarre creatures. She had to find that tape as soon as possible, and that meant going to Ash or Velvet…

She heaved a sigh. Facing her death over a strip club, bizarrely enough, felt like the easier option. The Asp Hole it was then.


End file.
